


playing with fire (if i burn, you do too)

by hugeboymino



Series: i'm going to make supreme hope relevant [5]
Category: Daenamhyup | DNH, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, attempted non-con, donghyuk's an ass basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugeboymino/pseuds/hugeboymino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hoseok is gay. somehow, that's a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> so, roughly five or six months ago an anon asked me to write a fic for [this](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/95517426695/person-a-has-a-secret-crush-on-b-who-is-a-bully) prompt and uh... i kind of got sidetracked and this ended up being almost 28k words long and completely unrelated to the actual prompt lmao  
> the first part is really briefly edited bc i'm rushing to class sorry  
> i'm super nervous about posting this bc of reasons and i know bullying is a really sensitive topic so please do tell me what you think, i appreciate all your comments very much ;;  
> a super huge shoutout to my love [mightyirony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyirony) bc without her yelling at me and cheering me on this fic never would've seen the light of the day i'm sure of it !!

hoseok showing up at his mother’s doorstep with bloodied bruises is nothing new.

she can’t do much but gasp and freak out about it, rushing him inside the house and into the bathroom so she can rinse the offending liquid off with warm water and hand soap. hoseok winces a few times when she dabs the open cut on his cheek with a gauze and alcohol, but otherwise stays silent.

there’s no point in saying anything, after all, when this has been a daily occurrence for the past three years, since the very start of his high school career. sometimes he’d rush straight to her house with his books wet and his clothes ripped because one of the boys in his group of bullies thought it would be funny to scare him with scissors, “those pants are old, anyway,” they’d say, “your mommy can just buy you new ones, right? oh, yeah. she can’t.”

the taunting, it’s something he could put up with. he’s never quite been the most loved and popular guy around, ever since he was a kid. even in kindergarten, other children avoided him. their town is small, and everyone knows everything about everyone. hoseok still remembers, vividly, how one of the girls whispered to her friend about hoseok being a bastard, an unwanted son.

in a way, she had been right.

hoseok knows his mother loves him. it’s evident in the way she gently cleans his face and covers his purple marks with a cooling cream that costs thirteen thousand won more than they can afford. but he also knows that with his birth he’s inevitably ruined her life.

“your father wants to meet you for lunch today,” she says so quietly that if their faces haven’t been so close he probably wouldn’t have heard her, “he’s back from his business trip.”

“great,” hoseok croaks out, voice giving out near the end. he hasn’t spoken since two hours ago when he screamed at his bullies to stop hitting him because it hurt, “can’t wait.”

“he wants to be a good dad,” his mother explains. hoseok supposes that might be true, but has a hard time believing it.

“it’s fine,” he says, eventually, and hates the look of pity she gives him. it makes the bruises hurt even more.

 

he doesn’t expect to see his stepbrother sitting in one of the expensive leather chairs, typing something out on his phone.

he doesn’t even look up or in any way acknowledge hoseok’s presence when he walks up to the table, but he does grunt when the person he’s texting responds with an unsatisfying message.

“h-hello,” hoseok greets simply to be polite and hates the way he stutters over the consonant, a habit he’s picked up on throughout the years of fearing for his life. hunchul continues to ignore him, but that’s fine. hoseok isn’t in the mood for attempted small talk, anyway.

their father joins them soon afterwards, hands a little wet from how ineffective the blow drying machine in the men’s bathroom is. he shakes hoseok’s hand with a strong grip to which hoseok’s weak one can’t ever compare and scolds hunchul for always texting, “i’ll take away your phone,” he threatens, but hunchul simply rolls his eyes, “i’ll just use one of my other two.”

“so,” after the pretty waitress comes up to their table to ask for their orders and smiles brightly at hoseok, who hopes he’s managed to smile back without it looking like an uncomfortable grimace, his father decides to directly speak to him, “how was your day?”

“standard,” hoseok answers automatically. his father doesn’t know about the bullying, but then again, his father doesn’t know about a lot of this going on in hoseok’s life since he’s too busy having a family of his own and a job as a CEO in a pharmaceutical company. hoseok is aware that he’s asking just so he’d have something to say to hoseok’s mother when she emails him about their encounter later in the evening, “i had a math test today. it went alright.”

“good, good,” his father nods, taking a sip of white wine from his tall crystal glass that sparkles just right when he tilts it at a specific angle, “what about you, hunchul?”

“hm?” hunchul has apparently not been paying attention to them at all, but he flashes a mean smirk to hoseok when he goes to respond, “had a fun time with my girlfriend today,” the wiggle of eyebrows he shoots in hoseok’s direction is disgusting and it makes hoseok roll his eyes. hunchul is two years older and already graduated from high school but he’s the most immature person hoseok’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.

hoseok spends the majority of the lunch quiet and speaking only when he’s spoken to or asked a question. the waitress is too nice to him for his liking and she even slips him an extra blueberry on his cheesecake with a wink. it makes hoseok feel uneasy. he’s not used to the attention.

“she seems to like you a lot,” his father nods in the departing girl’s direction. both older men watch as her hips sway seductively before she disappears behind the counter, “that’s my boy.”  


hoseok is appalled at the way their eyes glaze over when she bends to pick up something. hunchul’s smirk grows when his gaze falls on hoseok and his uncomfortable expression, “i don’t think it means much to him,” he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing when their father eyes hoseok suspiciously.

“i mean, because he has so many girls falling over their feet for him to give them the time of the day,” he continues hurriedly, watching hoseok’s eyes widen in a plea for him to quit it because he’s wandering into dangerous territory, but the teasing glint never leaves. their father looks between them curiously, but for once hoseok is glad his observation skills when it comes to his youngest son equal to none, “some boys, too.”

the comment is unnecessary and hoseok knows, in the way hunchul is pointedly looking at him, why he’s said it. their father laughs loudly, patting hoseok’s back with force enough to send his weakened body lunging forward over the table top, “those poor boys, so foolish. i hope you don’t give them too much hell, or i’ll have to scold you,” he points his finger at hoseok in mock accusation, then bursts into another fit of laughter. hunchul laughs along, but he never stops looking at hoseok.

hoseok waits patiently until the lunch is over. they give him a ride in the slick black limo and drop him off a few meters before his apartment complex, “it won’t be good if the public sees,” his father explains and hunchul pointedly nods next to him, “i have many reporters following me everywhere.”

“of course,” hoseok agrees, although he doesn’t see the point in everything being so secretive when most of the town already knows their family’s story. he leaves the limo and enjoys the fresh air on his way to his mother’s house nevertheless.

 

later, his mother will check his bruises and ask him how it had gone and hoseok will say it’s fine, it’s always fine. she’ll replace the plasters on his cheeks and neck and dab some more cooling cream and leave him alone to work on his homework, and after he’s finished, hoseok will crawl underneath his covers and wonder what tomorrow might bring.

 

schoolwork in itself is easy for him, for the most part. it’s what happens in-between classes that gives him trouble.

he doesn’t have close friends, only acquaintances. like taehyung for example, a bubbly boy from chess club with oversized glasses and a skinny frame, a year younger. sometimes they spend their lunchtimes together outside and away from the cafeteria because the jocks have been feeling a little playful that day and decided to spill their lunches all over them.

hoseok doesn’t mind taehyung’s company. he can be freer around him, talk more, since they’re in a similar situation. taehyung has a bully of his very own, a short but bulky jock by the name of park jimin whose right hand is indeed very strong, as both of them have experienced. it’s a bit shameful that hoseok lets a boy younger than him be his bully, but he’s never been much of a protester. if he tries to stand up for himself, he’ll just get laughed at, or jimin’s friends will come as backup. he doesn’t want jimin’s friends to come as backup, especially not his older, bigger and scarier friends like kim namjoon and shin donghyuk, not if he can avoid it.

namjoon isn’t that bad. actually, kim namjoon is one of those bullies who don’t realize they’re being a bully. he asks for hoseok’s help with math homework and hoseok never refuses because the last time he did, namjoon told donghyuk, and donghyuk shoved him inside his locker and destroyed his notebook with all the useful notes he needed for his exam next week.

their other friends, like jimin and taegyun and hyosang, they don’t specifically pick on him unless they accidentally see him in the hallways and decide it would be fun to push him into a wall, or trip him, or play with his hair, or hide his things and watch him struggle to find them. they don’t physically attack him unless donghyuk tells them to, and they’d all blindly follow donghyuk, even to the ends of the earth.

shin donghyuk is indeed the source of all hoseok’s worries.

“well don’t you look peachy today,” hoseok hears him grumble behind him. fear builds up in his chest, sudden and burning, wrapping around his heart like vice. the hand gripping his locker door shakes and he hopes donghyuk hasn’t noticed yet, “your daddy pay you for plastic surgery already?”

hoseok attempts to hide his face and not make eye contact, but donghyuk is close to him now, inside of his personal space. his stomach flips, fills with acid and swells with anxiety. the taller boy leans down to get a better look and notices the band-aid on hoseok’s cheek, “ah, i guess i was wrong. he doesn’t care enough, after all.”

the words hurt him more than hoseok wants to admit because, _what the hell does donghyuk know, anyway_ , but he’d never protest. he stays silent and unmoving because he’s long since learned that putting up a fight only riles donghyuk up further.

the bell rings, bringing hoseok’s salvation. he lets out a sigh of relief when donghyuk tells him they’ll ‘talk’ later and nods at namjoon at the far end of the hallway, intending to skip.

after class is over hoseok hides in the boy’s restroom and cries until his eyes are puffy and red and he thinks that if he meets with his father today, at least he’ll assume his son’s been smoking weed instead of wiping the blood off his freshly formed cuts.

 

the weekends are lonely for hoseok, spent usually in his room and playing video games to relax. sometimes, if he specifically craves human interaction, he’d start up an online multiplayer and kill monsters with his party, but he usually settles for one person shooters. it’s satisfying to be in control of the situation for once, to be the one causing harm to others, even if they’re just a bunch of on screen pixels. it’s a sickening thought and hoseok always feels bad afterwards, but in that moment, it feels good. it feels _right_.

he leaves his room a total of five times per day and tells his mother to lie to his father that he’s sick in case he calls and wants to hang out.

he isn’t sure why he’s said it, since his father doesn’t call anyway.

 

on monday, they get a new kid in school.

it’s kind of strange to get a transfer student who is also a senior, but everyone has learned about him since the moment they arrived to school. hoseok doesn’t know what’s going on – since he doesn’t exactly have anyone to ask – until taehyung finds him in front of his locker and excitedly pulls on the sleeves of his hoodie.

“did you hear? did you hear? did you hear?” he practically shouts into hoseok’s face, droplets of spit elegantly landing on hoseok’s cheeks, “there’s a new student! min yoongi, min yoongi!”

that, hoseok realizes, is a name he _does_ recognize. min yoongi’s family history is probably the second most talked about one in the town, right after hoseok’s, of course. or, more specifically, his parents, both rich and successful lawyers who were going through a divorce process when their house burned down. yoongi had been fourteen at the time and barely survived. he’s disappeared since the incident and, as the rumors going around have told, moved away to the countryside with his grandparents. the reason why he’d come back now escapes hoseok.

“where is he?” hoseok asks. his stutter disappears whenever taehyung is around, because taehyung is comfortable. taehyung is like him, except a lot, lot more energetic, and hoseok feels himself relax, “have you seen him?”

“no, not yet,” taehyung answers, “but i think you have class with him. he’s been held back a year.”

hoseok waits until his korean language class to find out whether taehyung’s assumption had been correct and, indeed, there he is. min yoongi, standing next to headmaster bang and professor lee, looking bored and disinterested. their professor calms the class down with much effort, and the headmaster quickly introduces the newcomer.

“you can sit on the empty spot next to our hoseok-sshi there,” professor lee points and yoongi doesn’t acknowledge him in any shape or form, just walks forward to where hoseok is sitting. the anxiety in hoseok’s tummy pipes up again in fear that yoongi will make them switch seats and embarrass him in front of the whole class, like donghyuk used to do, but no such thing happens.

yoongi plops down on his seat and glares daggers at everyone who has been following his movements with their eyes. he quickly glances at hoseok, and doesn’t look nearly as murderous.

hoseok isn’t sure what to make of it.

 

as if the day couldn’t get any weirder, what with yoongi sitting next to him now and none of his bullies even approaching him until lunch, yoongi decides to sit next to him in the cafeteria.

“it’s fitting,” he explains even though hoseok hasn’t even asked, “the two rejects, sitting together.”

“d-don’t,” hoseok begins, “you d-don’t want to associate yourself w-with me.”

“why is that?” yoongi asks. he doesn’t seem at all bothered by the stares they’re receiving and the whispering around them as if all eyes are on them. hoseok doesn’t even have to turn around to confirm that donghyuk is burning holes in his back; if he tries hard enough, he can even picture the displeased frown on his face. the image is scary clear, and hoseok wants to cry again.

“you just don’t,” hoseok says firmly, picking up his lunch tray and throwing it in the trash. he leaves the cafeteria in a rush, not really knowing where he’s going.

he ends up at the rooftop, like in all the clichés, and watches the wind brush the tree branches and bend grass in front of the school entrance. he considers sitting on the edge, but the fear of falling over stops him from doing so. he opts for leaning on the ledge instead, and breathes in, closing his eyes.

he doesn’t hear donghyuk approaching, too lost in his whirlwind of thoughts. maybe he should’ve paid more attention.

“it’s barely been three hours and you’re turning min yoongi queer now too, huh?”

the words cut him like knives and hoseok feels his legs fill with lead. donghyuk’s on him before hoseok even has time to turn around and fully face him, fist full of the collar of hoseok’s shirt. he smells like expensive cologne and mint, a weird combination that makes hoseok feel equally as weird things when he inhales it.

thankfully, this time he’s alone. none of his minions have tagged along to laugh at hoseok as he’s being pushed to the ground.

“listen here, fag,” donghyuk growls above him, knees planted into hoseok’s sides and hoseok isn’t sure which hurts more, the words he’s hearing or the sharp pain he’s feeling everywhere, “you steer clear of yoongi and you’ll go home in one piece today. actually, just steer clear in general. i don’t even want to know you exist,” the hands he has around hoseok’s collar move to his neck and the touch is almost gentle before his palm is pressing hoseok’s esophagus deeper into his throat from the outside.

“did you not hear me?” he hisses, increasing pressure he has on hoseok’s smaller body, “say it.”

“a-alright,” hoseok manages, somehow, even though he feels like his body might burst any second now. it seems to please donghyuk, at least, who gets off of him and leaves, but not before spitting on the ground next to where hoseok is lying down, disheveled and at the verge of angry tears.

he falls back down on the floor and lets out a frustrated groan, hands balling into fists next to him. he can already sense the bruises forming, and his mother’s worried eyes when he enters her home looking like a mess.

he doesn’t notice yoongi standing at the doorway leading to the staircase, watching him incredulously. his perception skills aren’t the best this morning, as it appears.

 

“hoseok,” his mother says, “your father called.”

her voice is strained, like she’s been yelling. hoseok wouldn’t know, he’s had music blasting through his earphones for the past two hours, sitting in the living room like a lifeless doll and watching the tv without really paying attention. he could still feel donghyuk’s weight on top of him and how disgusting it felt. try as he might, he couldn’t stop the memories from resurfacing. not even the sweet sound of hyorin’s ballads in his ears could make him forget.

he holds the cellphone in his hands like sharp glass and carefully puts it to his ear, “h-hello?”

“hoseok!” his father greets, overly cheerful. hoseok can picture the fake smile on his face and the wrinkles next to his eyes, “we haven’t talked in so long, how have you been?”

it’s been a week, to be precise, since the last time they’ve spoken. hoseok is surprised that it hasn’t been longer, “y-yeah, uh, i’m fine. you?”

“i’m great! it’s actually what i’ve called to talk to you about…” the voice on the other line trails off, like he’s removed the receiver from his ear, but hoseok can hear commotion on the other side. he can’t hear what they’re arguing about, however, “sorry about that,” he says a moment later, clearer, without  a noise in the background, “but i wanted to invite you to my wedding.”

 _oh_ , hoseok thinks. he’s been aware of his father’s fiancée for a while now, but she’s never shown much interest in meeting him and he’s never insisted either. his stomach drops to his heels and he starts fiddling with the string of his earphones in his lap, “r-right,” he says, “i’d love to come?”

his father is either oblivious to the hesitant tone of hoseok’s voice or simply chooses to ignore it, but he shouts in happiness so suddenly it startles hoseok, “great! i was going to have my secretary send you an invitation, but i figured this way was better. it’s next month, okay? on the twenty-third. but i’ll remind you of the details as we go on.”

“right,” hoseok repeats.

“i can’t wait to see you,” his father adds, “we’ll talk again soon. hunchul says hi,” he hangs up, though, before hoseok can say anything in return.

 

hoseok’s father is marrying a woman that is neither his, nor hunchul’s mother.

in fact, the woman he’s seeing in front of him right now could easily pass as their older sister. hunchul doesn’t seem too bothered by the fact that his future stepmother is five years older than him at most. he doesn’t seem interested in the situation at all.

“so how’s your school going?” the woman, hyojung as his father had introduced her, asks politely, all smiles and pearly white teeth and a cleavage out on display in her tight red dress. she looks nice, touched up and worthy of being married to a chaebol, and hoseok supposes she’s alright. she doesn’t look overly hostile or like she’ll make hoseok’s life a living hell after she’s officially taken the last name jung, but then again, it’s not like hoseok spends enough time at his father’s mansion to even give her a chance to.

hoseok opens his mouth to answer, but his father beats him to it, “oh, he’s great! he’s the top of his class, but his specialty is languages. he wants to study literature. right?”

he confirms the words with a slight nod, wondering how in the world his father knows all those things. his mother must’ve prepared the materials for him well.

“and he has so many friends,” hunchul pipes in usefully, eager to participate in the conversation now that it’s about his younger brother, “he always texts me like, ‘hyung, help! i can’t deal with so many girls at once! what do i do?’”

hyojung laughs, covering her mouth with her small palm. hoseok grits his teeth and stares at hunchul, who sticks out his tongue at him.

“ah, i’m glad to hear that,” hyojung comments further, “enjoy it while it lasts, hoseokkie.”

choosing to ignore hunchul’s annoying giggling next to him, hoseok firmly nods, “i will.”

 

yoongi doesn’t sit next to him during lunch for a while and hoseok wonders whether donghyuk’s already gotten to his head, whether he’s told him filthy lies about hoseok and his backstory and turned even the infamous orphan against him. he’s seen them talk in the hallways once, donghyuk leaning in to whisper something in yoongi’s ear and yoongi nodding in understanding. it had been the proof hoseok needed to lose all hope in making an actual friend during the rest of his high school career.

except, by the time another monday rolled in, yoongi sits next to him again. hoseok is picking on his rice with his chopsticks, not really in the mood for eating since donghyuk’s tripped him in gym class earlier and made him fall on his face and scratch his palms on the concrete in front of everyone, when another tray hits his and yoongi slides on the bench, bumping their hips together.

“hey, stranger,” he greets, “long time no see.”

“i t-thought i told you,” hoseok sighs, “that you don’t want to associate yourself with-”

“-with you because you’re a ‘fag’ and everyone hates you and you have no friends and you’re donghyuk’s favorite plaything yadda yadda yadda,” yoongi rolls his eyes in mock irritation, “well, to that i say: fuck them. who cares what they have to say,” at that, yoongi pointedly looks in the direction of the soccer team, where donghyuk is sitting on the tabletop and animatedly retelling a story to namjoon and hyosang, “that’s right. fuck you!”

yoongi’s starting to get loud so hoseok quickly shushes him before any of the boys notice the commotion, shoving his fist into yoongi’s mouth, “alright, alright,” he fusses, although deep down he’s kind of glad for what yoongi’s said, “i get it.”

“look,” yoongi continues after calming down a little. hoseok’s heart palpitates because – shit, what if he’s suddenly changed his mind? maybe hoseok had been too harsh on him earlier. maybe yoongi doesn’t like him at all and this has all been a huge prank and donghyuk is about to show up any second now and- “guys like you and me, we have to stick together. nobody here likes me, either. they just know me because of my parents,” his eyes grow that sad hue around them, the kind that hoseok wants to help him get rid of, “so i want us to be friends. just… be that someone we can trust. we don’t have to hang out after school or anything, i just don’t want us to be lonely when we have an opportunity to make this easier.”

hoseok listens to his small rant and feels himself nodding before he’s fully aware of it happening. everything yoongi’s said makes sense, except… “why… why were you and donghyuk talking in the hallway the other day, then?”

“he gave me a proposition,” yoongi grins, “to join him and his gang. it was more of an ultimatum, really, since the part ‘become hoseok’s butt buddy and i’ll beat you to the ground for the rest of this year’ had been silent, but there.”

“oh god,” hoseok covers his eyes, groaning into his palms, “i’m sorry. you really don’t have to do this, it’s not too late.”

“nah,” yoongi waves it off like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just sentenced himself to a miserable high school life barely a week since he transferred for some boy he doesn’t even know that well, “i do it because i want to. besides, we’re already making progress,” when hoseok lifts an eyebrow at him, yoongi’s grin broadens, “we’ve been talking for fifteen minutes and you’ve only stuttered once.”

 

things don’t change drastically after yoongi becomes a part of hoseok’s daily routine, but they do become better. a little bit. it’s harder for donghyuk to target him now that he has someone trailing after him roughly all the time. he still feels a little bad, however, when he sees taehyung standing alone in front of his locker, wearing his oversized sweater and glasses, arms full of books about bugs.

“he looks so lost,” yoongi coos, leaning on hoseok’s locker as the slightly taller boy fetches his textbook, “what do you say we adopt him? expand this family of degenerates.”

“you’re crazy,” hoseok states while slamming his locker door shut. crazy, but right. hoseok sees, out of the corner of his eye, that jimin is lurking nearby, ready to catch taehyung unaware, “yeah. let’s do it.”

 

good things never last, hoseok learns one afternoon, his cheek lying flat against the cold surface of the wall of a dirty building while donghyuk twists his wrists in a firm grip on his back, “i thought i told you,” he hisses out, “to steer clear from yoongi.”

“i d-didn’t-” hoseok attempts, but donghyuk’s hand is around his neck again, fingers messing with the hair on his nape and pulling.

“what, you couldn’t get it with me so you jump on the newest chance you get? i bet you’ve been waiting for this since freshman year, fucking nasty,” he hears him growl into his ear, pressing him into the wall with his full weight. the pressure makes hoseok whimper weakly and his wrists crack uncomfortably, “don’t think you’re safe just because you’re fucking with him now. your knight in shining armor can’t be there all the time to protect you.”

there’s something about the way he says it that’s more bitter than threatening but hoseok’s eyes are rimmed with unshed tears and it’s been so long since the last time he’s cried because of what donghyuk does to him that the feeling seems almost foreign now. they spill anyway and hoseok can’t stop them.

“shut up,” donghyuk barks, “stop whining, god, why are you so annoying? you’re driving me insane,” hoseok isn’t saying anything but the sobs that escape him only make donghyuk dig his fingernails into hoseok’s wrists deeper.

just then, by some string of luck, donghyuk’s phone rings in his pocket, followed by a vibration that even hoseok can feel from the close proximity they’re in. donghyuk reluctantly releases him to free an arm and pull out the device, staring hoseok down to make sure he wouldn’t try to escape. hoseok isn’t sure he’d have the strength in his legs to will them to move either way.

donghyuk doesn’t even properly pick up and there’s already yelling on the other line. whoever it is, donghyuk must’ve pissed them off pretty badly. he frowns, his expression shifting into something vaguely familiar to hoseok, but foreign on donghyuk’s face.

“fine,” he grits out, “yeah, i fucking get it, i’ll be there soon.”

he hangs up and the vice-like grip he has on hoseok’s wrists weakens, “this isn’t over,” he warns him before the warmth of his body is gone and hoseok can breathe freely again.

 

hoseok vividly remembers the first day donghyuk started picking on him.

sometimes the flashbacks resurface in his dreams and catch him by surprise. hoseok’s never had to quite ‘come out’ to anyone; the subject of his sexuality wasn’t an issue in middle school. they were too young, they’ve heard talks about it on tv and among their parents, but they never really understood the implications behind it. hoseok’s just always known that he doesn’t find girls attractive, not in a way that he should, at least.

his mother had always known, too. she never directly addressed it, but she never questioned why hoseok liked to observe boys walking in front of them rather than girls either, or why he eagerly flipped through men’s health magazines without actually reading the articles.

maybe she should have. hoseok’s apparent flamboyancy was what got him into this mess in the first place.

the thing about donghyuk is that he had been hoseok’s first real crush. it’s kind of pathetic, really, for him to get all heart eyed over a guy he’s never really talked to in middle school and who would probably ignore him throughout high school as well, but hoseok’s daydreams consisted of strings of fantasies in which he held donghyuk’s hand and made him smile and maybe even kissed him. and those had been some really nice daydreams, too.

in high school, they’d only gotten more graphic. donghyuk had grown into his frame and stood a few inches above hoseok and he often wondered what it would feel like to be held by donghyuk’s strong arms or sit in his lap. despite everything, he knew that he could absolutely never, ever act out on his feelings; until that one day that changed everything, that is.

“the fuck you staring at?” donghyuk had asked, startling him from one of his more explicit daydreams and hoseok had, without much thought, blurted out a, “you’re cute.”

donghyuk stared at him for a good long minute with an unreadable expression, before deadpanning “what?” hoseok felt heat creep up his cheeks and he’d never wanted to disappear more in his life. he should have turned and ran, but instead, he stayed glued to the spot and watched in horror as donghyuk connected the dots because you just _don’t tell guys randomly that they’re cute unless something is up_ , it appeared, “what, you gay?”

hoseok didn’t answer to him in time – the denial was ready on his lips, but the words never came out. what happened next though, wrecked him completely, “oh my fucking god,” donghyuk laughed. _laughed_ , “you are. fuck. namjoonie, look! our hobi here is a fag. he’s one of the- one of them, fuck!”

it was evident that namjoon, who was standing next to donghyuk along with the rest of their little clique, wasn’t sure what he was supposed to laugh at, but if donghyuk found it funny, then it must have been. taegyun and hyosang, on the other hand, were doubling over in a fit of giggles.

“fuck, it makes sense now,” taegyun exclaimed, “the outfits! the posture! fuck my ass!”

“i’m sure hobi would love to,” hyosang pointed out and the boys high fived each other as hoseok’s knees threatened to give out.

 _no_ , the thought kept repeating in his head over and over again _, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening_ -

“god, wait till hunchul hears about this, he’s gonna love it…” he heard hyosang mutter to himself in the background, already typing something on his phone, and the grin he’d seen on donghyuk’s face was sickening.

the thing that shows up in his flashbacks the most, though, is donghyuk mouthing “you’ve got yourself a death wish,” right before hoseok ran to hide, and the hollers that echoed in his ears even long after he arrived safely to his mother’s house.

 

“i’m gonna kill him,” is the first thing yoongi says when he sees hoseok on his doorframe. he pushes past him and straight to the bathroom, until he realizes this is the first time he’s been to hoseok’s house and has no idea where said bathroom is located.

“over here,” hoseok points to a white door, turning on the light switch in the process. hoseok is home alone that afternoon since his mother works double shifts sometimes for a raise, so he leaves the door wide open and sits on the edge of the bathtub, “in the cabinet, on the third shelf.”

“i’m gonna kill him,” yoongi repeats while pouring alcohol on the gauze. it’s a process hoseok’s been through so many times that he forgets to wince when the liquid burns his bleeding wounds, “who the hell does he think he is?”

“no, he’s… he’s right,” hoseok hiccups. the tears are coming up again although he’s pretty sure he’s already cried his soul out earlier, “he told me to stay away from you and i didn’t and now he’s going to do this every time i’m alone and he’s going to target you too and-”

“shit, fuck, okay,” yoongi shushes him with a particularly stingy jab to his palm, “calm down. nothing’s gonna happen. you’re safe now.”

“yeah,” hoseok’s laugh is humorless, “now.”

a few minutes of silence pass while yoongi disinfects hoseok’s hands, wraps them up in bandages and wipes hoseok’s cheeks dry, before he sits next to him on the bathtub and pats his knee, “i’ll walk you home from now on,” he declares. hoseok wants to protest, wants to ask _but what about you, hyung_ , but yoongi doesn’t let him, “don’t worry about me, i can defend myself. it’s a useful skill to pick up on when you live in a neighborhood full of gangs.”

“you live next to a retirement home,” hoseok points out and even smiles a bit when yoongi laughs. only then it hits him, that yoongi’s never shared much of his history with him and what he’s done while he had been away. not yet, at least.

“some of them are violent and carry around crutches,” yoongi says, “and they can’t see very well, so they mistake me for a thug.”

“maybe you should wear less leather, then,” hoseok suggests. with yoongi’s agreement and another lame joke, he feels the knot in his stomach slowly start to dissolve.

 

donghyuk doesn’t come to school the next day, or the day after that. in fact, he doesn’t show up for the rest of the week and it’s strange to see his pack of wolves looking so lost without their malicious leader. namjoon has a displeased frown on his face for the most time, deep in thought, and he barely pays attention in class as well, even though he’s the only student with better grades than hoseok.

hoseok wonders what might have happened and almost gets worried, before he remembers donghyuk’s death threats and the pain he’s caused him.

whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what hoseok has to go through because of him.

 

donghyuk comes back after the weekend passes and things are semi-back to normal. yoongi’s lived up to his promise, not leaving hoseok’s side not even once, especially in class. it doesn’t give donghyuk a chance to do anything more than sneer at him from across the classrooms.

“he wouldn’t dare,” yoongi assures hoseok during breaks, “i won’t let him. i’ll fight him.”

“it’s okay, hyung,” hoseok says, although the uncomfortable feeling never leaves, “really, it’s fine,” and he turns out to be correct, for the most part, because that day passes relatively normally. it’s not until the break before the second to last period that things get ugly.

hoseok’s expected his short trip to the boy’s restroom to clean up the sharpie marks on his chin and fingers from yoongi’s playful behavior earlier in class to pass smoothly, but he’s never had much luck in a lot of things in his life. what greets him in the dimly lit room is the sight of donghyuk standing in front of the sink with his shirt lifted up and a newly opened box of bandages next to him. there is a fading bruise on his ribs and a few more down his sides, with prominent scars that have already healed on his lower back and when he moves to touch it, his brows furrow in pain.

it’s all so shocking that hoseok gasps to himself, but it’s quiet enough in the room for the sound to echo against the walls and grab donghyuk’s attention.

his neck cracks painfully as he rushes to cover himself up, hands forming into fists on instinct as he growls out a threatening, “what the fuck do you want?”

“s-sorry,” hoseok stutters, backing up towards the exit and as far away from donghyuk as possible. it proves futile in the end, since donghyuk’s already grabbing the bandages and pushing past him, leaving hoseok to stand there alone with his mind and heart racing at full speed.

he washes away the sharpie marks but it’s done sloppily and quickly. he needs to find yoongi, tell him what he’s seen. could those bruises be the reason why donghyuk hasn’t been to school the entire week? and what could’ve possibly caused them?

“pissed off a wrong guy, i guess,” he could already hear yoongi snorting in his brain. he dries his hands and misses the wastebin when he throws away the used tissues but he doesn’t look back to pick them up like he usually would.

he leaves the restroom and rushes to his locker, his and yoongi’s usual meeting place, but something seems off. he passes by groups of people who normally ignore him, except, this time, they’re all looking and pointing _at_ him, whispering amongst themselves. hoseok feels bile rise up his throat faster than usual; he can’t see the sight of yoongi anywhere and the crowd’s closing in on him the further he goes.

“there he is,” he hears a girl whisper, “a bastard and a faggot at that, i bet his mother is so proud of him,” her friend adds. hoseok tries his best to stay calm, but his mission _find yoongi_ becomes more and more impossible.

“his mom’s a whore though so she probably is,” the girl adds. the comment resonates through hoseok’s ears like a gong that went off right next to him even though he’s sure she’s already two feet behind him. the familiar burn of tears distracts him and he shoves a guy who’s blocked his path off with surprising strength.

a hand encloses around his arm and he begins to fight it off, but then yoongi is whispering in his ear, “don’t look,” and hoseok _should_ feel relief, but all he feels is nausea.

there it is, written in a black marker, identical to the one hoseok’s washed off just minutes ago. _FUCKING FAGGOT_ , written on his locker and framed in a cloud, with several smaller rude drawings underneath it. hyosang and taegyun are losing it and donghyuk looks positively _sinister_. they make brief eye contact and the message in them is clear: _don’t you fucking dare blabber about what you saw to anyone_.

“hoseok,” yoongi starts, pulling him away. like he’s suddenly thrust out of a slow-motion, the noise of the students around them laughing intensifies until hoseok’s head threatens to explode.

“let’s just go,” he says quietly and yoongi nods without argument, never letting go of his bicep as they both push their way through the mass of people and towards the main entrance.

hoseok thinks they might’ve brushed past namjoon with a disbelieving expression on his face, but he can’t be completely sure.

 

“why would he do that?” yoongi asks hoseok once they’ve settled on a picnic table in a large park not far away from hoseok’s neighborhood. the air is crispy because it had rained earlier and the ground they’re walking on is soft, the grass still a little bit wet. there’s a random lake next to where they’re standing surrounded by a fence with a wooden bridge passing through the middle of it that hoseok sometimes likes to walk on and observe the life swimming underneath the water’s surface.

right now, hoseok is throwing rocks and disrupting the peaceful balance of the lake, his lower lip between his teeth, “i don’t know. w-why would he do _any_ of the things he does to me?” hoseok’s stutter has gradually disappeared over time, but the very remembrance of the upsetting events from earlier make his entire body shake.

“yeah, but,” yoongi gives up mid-sentence, realizing he doesn’t have a quality reply to that. he lets out a sigh and watches hoseok play with the rocks in silence for a while, until he speaks up again, “something happened, didn’t it?”

he knows, in the way hoseok freezes for a split second before continuing his previous actions, that there must’ve been a reason, no matter how petty. hoseok’s never been much of a liar, anyway, so the quiet, “nothing happened,” he gets in response does nothing to convince him.

“hoseok,” yoongi repeats, in the same tone of voice he used while rescuing him, “when i got to your locker he was already written down the- the thing, and his friends were laughing and high-fiving him and he looked so self-satisfied. when he saw me, he started frowning but it wasn’t, it wasn’t like he usually does.”

the possibility  of donghyuk doing something to yoongi if hoseok hadn’t gotten there on time to bring attention to himself presents itself in hoseok’s mind and he turns around immediately, marching over to where yoongi is sitting to hug him.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters into yoongi’s neck, “i didn’t- i didn’t mean to.”

“what?” yoongi asks, confused, but his fingers still wrap around hoseok’s wrists comfortingly, “just tell me what’s wrong, hoseok. i’m that someone you can trust, remember?”

“i can’t,” hoseok feels hot tears spill down his cheeks, a long time coming, “i just can’t.”

“he’s not going to hurt me if that’s what you’re afraid of,” yoongi tells him in a soft voice, “i told you, i can defend myself.”

“i’m sorry,” hoseok apologizes again. he hangs onto yoongi harder, holding the material of his shirt tighter. at least yoongi, out of everyone else, feels safe.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i always make seokjin the bartender lmao

yoongi insists on walking hoseok home even though they’ve stayed in the park until sunset and it’s not the safest to walk around the city at night. he lets hoseok hug him again before ordering him to go straight to bed, and salutes him when he leaves.

there’s a golden envelope with _to: jung hoseok_ written in a neat cursive on the kitchen table and hoseok manually picks it up before disappearing in his room. his mother is not home again, working a night shift this time, so hoseok turns on the tv to feel less lonely and plops down on his bed.

he opens the envelope carefully – it’s too pretty for him to just rip it apart – and pulls out an equally as golden card. a wedding invitation, to be more precise, for his father’s wedding. it’s a standard RSVP card so the organizers would know whether he’d be coming alone or with a ‘friend’ accompanying him. he deosn’t plan on bringing anyone, of course, but a part of him also doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of a proper response. with a quick glance to his phone hoseok confirms that it is, indeed, the eleventh of this month, meaning that his father would be marrying in twelve days.

“how could i forget,” hoseok laughs to himself. he throws the card on the floor and doesn’t look at it again until the wedding day itself.

 

his mother doesn’t ask why he needs her to call the school and make up an excuse as to why he’s skipped the last two classes. she just tells him to wash up before dinner, writing something down on a post it note.

 

hoseok likes school. he likes learning new things and studying, he likes how smarter he feels once he’s successfully memorized facts upon facts of new material or figured out how to solve a particularly hard math task. he likes reading books and analyzing them and he likes writing essays and even exams. he likes most of the things they do in class, except one.

he absolutely hates group projects.

they have one every year and the last two he’s had ended up with him doing all the work while the girl or the guy did nothing and took all the credit. the fact that they wouldn’t speak to him unless they really had to didn’t help at all. this year, it seems, will be even worse.

“shin donghyuk,” their teacher calls, reading from a list of names on a paper in her hand, “shin donghyuk, where are you? oh there you are,” to hoseok’s horror, she motions from donghyuk to him, “you’re partnered with jung hoseok. maybe that will make you actually do something for a change.”

hoseok grows cold as he watches donghyuk get up from his chair, grumbling the entire time, and moving towards him. he searches for yoongi, who has already been partnered up with namjoon, and mouths for _help_.

yoongi can’t do much but shrug, mouthing back to _stay strong, he won’t do anything_ , while namjoon excitedly yaps next to his ear. even in his current situation, with donghyuk sitting next to him, hoseok feels kind of bad for yoongi. namjoon just doesn’t seem to know how to shut up.

now, face to face to donghyuk at such proximity without him threatening to kill him or with his fists digging into any part of hoseok’s body and leaving bruises, hoseok finds himself at a loss of words, “well,” he starts lamely, but it turns out that he doesn’t have to, after all. donghyuk’s eyes are hardened with anger.

“if you tell anyone about what you saw yesterday,” he says lowly, making sure no one but hoseok would hear him, “i’ll make damn sure you never speak again. clear?”

 _i wasn’t going to tell anyway_ , is what hoseok wants to say. instead, he gulps and nods once, watching in horror as donghyuk bends a pencil between his thumb and forefinger and snaps it in half.

“alright, so what’s this dumb project about?” donghyuk asks, sounding almost cheerful, and it’s such a change in behavior that hoseok’s mouth ungracefully falls open. then he sees their professor lurking nearby and understands.

“uh, well,” he starts, picking up the korean translation of the book they’re reading in international literature class, “ _crime and punishment_. you’ve heard of d-dostoyevsky, right?”

“here and there, yeah,” donghyuk nods. hoseok realizes that this is the most they’ve spoken with each other without donghyuk bullying him in some way, “what, we are supposed to interpret all six hundred pages of it? fuck no.”

“that’s why it’s a _partner_ project,” hoseok says. he might’ve went out of line there because the glare donghyuk gives him is in warning, but he _really_ wants an A on this one, “you do your half, and i do mine.”

“how about you do everything and leave me the fuck alone,” the taller boy leans back in his chair, crossing his legs in front of him and bumping his feet with hoseok’s. hoseok flinches back, startled, and catches donghyuk smirking evilly at him.

“r-right,” he sighs, “that could work too, i guess.”

 

his locker is clean when he walks up to it during break with yoongi at his tail, complaining about namjoon one part of the trip and asking him about donghyuk the other part.

“wait,” hoseok says, running his fingers over where the offensive words should be written, but there’s nothing. not even a trace, “who did this?”

“i don’t know,” yoongi shrugs. suspicious, hoseok punches in the code and opens the door only to find a small blue note that’s landed clumsily between his textbooks.

_I’M SORRY THAT HE’S SUCH A DICK –KN_

“kn?” hoseok reads out loud, scratching his nape in thought, “who is kn?”

“i think i have a pretty good idea,” yoongi says and nudges hoseok’s arm for him to look up.

kim namjoon waves at them from the other side of the hallway, before disappearing around the corner, “ah,” he hears yoongi murmur, “so that’s what he meant.”

“what?” hoseok asks, “he meant what?”

“he said ‘i quite like your friend, the gay one’,” yoongi quotes, “he also said it’s not fair of donghyuk to treat you like that.”

“oh,” he says, glancing down at the slip of paper in his hand, “well. that’s… progress?”

“indeed,” yoongi says to himself, “come on, let’s go, or we’ll be late.”

 

hoseok absolutely hates suits. the tux his mother had bought him is too tight around his arms and legs and he’s worried it might tear in half if he attempts to sit down any time during the reception, but she insists he looks good. hoseok finds that hard to believe, however, because his mother thinks anything he does is good.

“you’re kind of biased,” he notes. she doesn’t really pay attention to his constant begging to let him stay home and just make up a story about how he’d caught the flu in school or something. she’s too busy taking pictures on her camera instead.

“shut up,” she tells him, “and spin.”

hoseok spins and feels stupid. he eyes himself in the body-length mirror, the way his wool trousers hug his thighs and the buttons of his suit jacket that dig into his stomach, “i look ridiculous,” he whines, but all his mother does in response is roll her eyes, “you look like a CEO’s son.”

the thing is, hoseok doesn’t _feel_ like a CEO’s son. he feels like a nobody, a black sheep lost in a pack of wolves waiting to skin him alive. he knows he’ll either get ridiculed the entire night or ignored until his father stands next to him every half an hour to appear like a good parent to the press that’ll be present there. he doesn’t even want to think of all the nasty comments hunchul will throw his way and hyojung’s sympathetic looks and attempts at making a conversation hoseok ultimately can’t follow.

“this is going to suck,” he concludes in the end, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already being ushered into the limo that came to pick him up, this time surprisingly stopping right in front of his apartment complex. it’s even more shocking when he meets hunchul in the back seat, with a girl sprawled over his lap and drinking champagne.

“uh,” hoseok starts once he’s set in the leather seat as comfortably as it’s possible in a situation like this. hunchul isn’t bothered by his awkward coughing, being too busy feeding his girl companion strawberries dipped in previously mentioned champagne.

“hey, little brother,” he smirks at him, “ready for d day? and i don’t mean d as in, you know,” he waves his free hand around, winking, “but d as in we _dd_ ing.”

“sure,” hoseok answers, mildly annoyed, but it’s not like comments like those weren’t expected. in fact, he’s pretty sure there’ll be even more of them as the night drawls on, each of them worse than the last one.

he fastens his seatbelt, ignoring the snickers coming from hunchul and the girl, just as the driver takes off. he sees his mother on the balcony out of the corner of his eye giving him a small wave and he contemplates waving back, when he realizes she can’t see him, and he’ll just end up embarrassing himself in front of his brother even more.

hoseok is determined to keep the remnants of his dignity at all costs.

as it turns out, it’s a lot more difficult to ignore people making out in his general presence than he at first thought it would be. the girl in hunchul’s lap giggles throughout the entire ride and even screams when his fingers disappear under her dress for a fraction of a second until she’s silenced by hunchul’s lips. she looks soft, like all girls look like to hoseok, but soft isn’t what he likes very much. as much as he’s tried to understand the appeal of the opposite sex over the years of being told his sexual preference is wrong, the logic behind it never really presented itself to him.

he probably looks too disgusted by the image before him if hunchul’s gone out of his way to make the girl moan in all kinds of lewd ways, only to wiggle his eyebrows at hoseok as if to say ‘ _this is what you’re missing out on_ ’.

hoseok doesn’t regret it one bit.

the relief that washes over him when they finally arrive at their destination almost makes him trip on his way out of the limo. thankfully, he’s regained his balance just in time, because the steps they’re supposed to climb are full of news reporters and guests who have arrived before them. to say he’s feeling nervous is an understatement, and without anyone to look out for as reassurance, hoseok knows he’s doomed for tonight.

he manages to climb the steps without his suit tearing or anyone asking him questions, although he couldn’t say they haven’t tried. he disappears through the glass door before they get to him.

he finds his father and hyojung in the large hallway, her still in her sparkly wedding dress, and hunchul, who has somehow appeared next to him, chuckles like he expects hoseok to do the stereotypically gay thing and squeal over the diamonds reflecting light on the top of the material and the pearly white silk that hugs her curves in all the important ways.

while hoseok _does_ find the dress pretty, he refuses to indulge hunchul’s ugly fantasies. he lets hyojung kiss his cheeks and stain his skin with red lipstick and puts all his effort into the handshake with his smiling father – the happiest he’s seen him in all seventeen years of his life.

“i’m so glad you’re here,” hyojung says, voice breaking like she might cry. she covers the lower part of her face with her open palm, displaying the expensive wedding ring on her ring finger, and hoseok can’t tell whether she’s done it on purpose or on accident. either way, the transparent rock matches the ones on her dress. she really does portray the image of the perfect bride.

“it’s a shame you’ve missed the ceremony,” his father adds and hoseok nods along with hunchul, “but, my boys are here now, and that’s all that matters! family photo, everyone! where is that damned photographer?”

hoseok ends up lodged between hyojung and hunchul and attempts a smile that isn’t too awkward or resembling a grimace. when the flash snaps, their formation breaks up immediately, hunchul scurrying off to somewhere, probably to catch some ass before the appetizer, and the newlyweds greeting the incoming guests.

that leaves hoseok on his own.

unsure what to do with this newly found freedom, hoseok nearly crashes into an interviewer on his exploration of the inside of the giant reception hall. he does manage to find his way into the dining hall and the tiny slip of paper with his name on the main table. he sits on his designated spot and immediately pulls out his phone to text yoongi.

_barely been here for 30 mins and it alr sucks. miss u_

he adds a series of sad emojis to complete the message and presses send before he changes his mind. lord knows what yoongi is doing right now; he’s always busy on saturday nights but he’s never told hoseok where he’s going. then again, hoseok’s never asked, either. it feels too personal to pry, since even after everything they’ve already been through, hoseok is still hesitant to call yoongi his _friend_.

someone he can trust, sure. but does yoongi trust _him_ in an equal measure?

his phone vibrates with an incoming message ten to fifteen minutes later – _its gna be just fine if u get drunk u wont even care, trust me. miss u 2_ – and hoseok reads it with a smile on his face. maybe he’s just overthinking everything, as per usual.

the dinner goes well, or as well as it can go, at least, with a boring speech from the best man that hoseok’s mostly slept through, and hunchul constantly attempting to drop something in his food. after dessert, he disappears again, taking his glass of wine with him, and the rest of the guests spread out on the dance floor.

hoseok doesn’t dance, refusing even hyojung’s cute pout when she asks him for a hand, so he decides it’s best he follows hunchul’s footsteps if he wants to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

the two glasses of alcohol he’s had during the main course (which, in his defense, he’s tried to turn down multiple times until his father told him it’s rude) make him a bit dizzy as he walks through hallways that just never seem to end. he recognizes the building as a fancy hotel of some sort, with crystal chandeliers and golden posts on each corner. there’s a lounge area or… something, completely burgundy red with walls covered in expensive paintings. he sees couples making out on the furniture and opts to steer clear from that room, so he wouldn’t think of his own lack of love life.

instead he thinks of donghyuk, for whatever reason, remembers how on monday he’ll have to ask him for his phone number if they – or, well, him – want to get anything done on their project. he thinks of the ridicule he’ll face, of whatever kind of mean comment donghyuk would come up with if he saw him dolled up like this with the smallest traces of eyeliner and a bowtie suffocating him, and feels his dinner rise up higher in his throat.

he doesn’t pay attention to where he’s going, and when he finally snaps out of his worrying thoughts and gathers his surroundings, he’s surprisingly found himself in front of a vast bathroom, peeking through the slightly opened door and prying on an intimate scene.

he recognizes the guy at the front as hunchul – it can’t be anyone else but him, he’d recognize that slicked up raven black hair and that ugly suit out of an airplane – but he’s kissing someone that looks distinctly _not_ female. he can’t exactly make out the body shape of the person, but that’s definitely a boy’s jacket and boy’s trousers that are being torn open so hunchul could explore the skin hidden underneath it.

when they change positions and hunchul lifts the boy up to sit on the sinks, giving hoseok a better view of their actions, hoseok gasps out loud, because the boy hunchul’s kissing has his neck full of love bites and his glasses are slightly askew and hunchul is so _into it_. his hand immediately flies to his mouth, but the damage has already been done. hunchul’s heard him.

he whips his head around at a fascinatingly fast speed and spots hoseok in front of the door instantly, “fuck,” he curses out loud, dropping the boy’s legs to fall limply next to him. he starts moving towards him, opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, but hoseok bolts the hell out of there before he finds out what it is.

 

when he comes home, in a limo again but this time alone (his father caught him before he’s ran away, and insisted he took one for safety measures), it’s nearing two in the morning, but his mother is still awake, waiting for him. she jumps to her feet when hoseok slams the door closed and locks them, her bright smile melting away into a worried expression when she sees how bewildered her son is.

“is everything alright?” she asks him, reaching out to touch his cheek. hoseok grabs her wrists and gently massages the skin there to assure her he’s okay, although he feels everything but. he recites her a report on what he’s done and what he’s seen, the last part excluded of course, and ducks for the safety of his familiar four walls. he realizes his hands are shaking when he peels off his suit.

there are two new messages waiting for him once he’s finally settled in his pajamas and curled underneath the covers, his nerves subsiding a bit. one of them is from yoongi, asking him how it’s going, sent in forty-five minutes ago.

the second one is from hunchul, written in all caps, as a warning.

_DON’T. TELL. ANYONE._

hoseok should’ve long since stopped counting how many times he’s heard those exact same words so far.

 

“the fuck is wrong with you today?”

hoseok snaps out of his thoughts with a start, dropping his mechanical pencil into the crease of his open notebook. he must have dozed off pretty badly if even donghyuk’s noticed something is off.

in all honesty, he can’t stop thinking about what will happen this afternoon.

after a day and a half of ignoring him, he woke up to yet another text from hunchul, saying how he wishes to meet him later that day, and the bone-chilling suspense that something bad is going to happen to him hasn’t left since. he’s been so distracted that not even donghyuk drawing dicks on his copy of _crime and punishment_ hasn’t bothered him.

he looks over to where yoongi is sitting, he and namjoon working diligently on their project, and sighs wistfully. he’s got yet another thing he couldn’t tell yoongi about on his plate, with no solution or any idea what to do or expect next. yoongi has spent the entire morning asking him about the wedding and hoseok’s desperately fought to turn the conversation on how yoongi’s spent _his_ weekend, to which yoongi refused to give any useful input, so they just ended up quietly standing in front of the classroom until the bell rang.

the prospect of yoongi hiding something from him upsets him, but it’s not like he has any right to be mad at him. still, he finds yoongi’s sudden silence a bit strange.

“e-everything’s fine,” hoseok answers eventually. donghyuk, dissatisfied with the answer, leans over with his elbows resting on the table top and crumpling the pages of hoseok’s notebook, and frowns.

“doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“what’s it matter to you, anyway?” he whispers, agitated. he concludes he’s stepped out of line a second too late.

donghyuk’s already ripping apart his precious notebook and dropping it ceremoniously on the floor by the time the apology reaches the tip of his tongue. all of his notes, gone, smashed under donghyuk’s foot. hoseok can taste the mint on his breath fanning over his face when donghyuk closes the distance between them.

“i don’t care about your private problems,” he whispers, “but _you_ should care about finishing this project on time if you don’t want to end up just like your precious little notebook.”

 

when they meet, hoseok is shocked to find hunchul nervous.

it feels like an out of body experience, sitting in a café with hunchul fidgeting in his seat and drumming an inconsistent beat on the table’s surface. both of them have yet to touch the coffees they’ve ordered. really, hoseok just wants answers.

“so…” he starts, trailing off in expectation for hunchul to continue.

it takes him a whole minute or two of staring into the ceiling and clicking his tongue before hunchul has a prepared answer. he doesn’t look hoseok in the eye when he says, “what you saw… it’s not what you think.”

to his surprise, hoseok actually recognizes the feeling boiling up inside of him as _anger_. he frowns at his older brother and suppresses himself from yelling at him, “what the hell do you _mean_?”

“it’s not- we’re not- look,” hunchul sighs, messing up his hair with his hand, “siyoung and i, we aren’t dating or anything.”

“really? looked that way to me,” hoseok scoffs. hunchul’s went back to playing with his sleeves in the meantime, teeth worrying his lower lip.

“it’s complicated,” he finally says, “we just… use each other to let off steam sometimes, alright? neither of us is like… like _that_.”

“like what, _hyung_?” hoseok hisses the question out like its venom. it feels like it is on his lips, anyway, “you’re not fags like _me_?”

“no,” hunchul answers immediately, but continues on hastily when hoseok’s gaze hardens, and he grips the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white, “i mean, no, we’re not- not exclusively, at least, we don’t-”

“really? because usually when two guys are caught nearly _fucking_ in an empty bathroom, they get called _queer_!” this time, hoseok laughs – actually laughs at how ridiculous this entire situation is. the chair scrapes against the laminated floor and he’s on his feet before hunchul can protest, “enjoy your life kissing dudes and being blissfully _straight_ while you’re at it. you’re doing a splendid job. don’t talk to me anymore. i don’t know you.”

he leaves hunchul to sit there and deal with the pissed off waiter on his own. right now, he needs something to clear his mind. he needs to talk to yoongi.

 

it takes whole five minutes for hoseok to talk himself into ringing the doorbell. fifteen seconds into waiting for the door to open, he almost chickens out and runs for it before yoongi’s sleepy bare face pops up behind them.

“hey,” he sounds surprised, voice a little hoarse. he’s probably been sleeping, like usual.

hoseok finds himself at a loss of words. all his earlier anger has washed away on his trek towards yoongi’s place and he almost forgets why he’s here in the first place.

deciding it better not to avoid problems, he gathers all his courage and says, “i want to talk.”

yoongi considers his words, leaning on the door frame, and then nods, sidestepping to allow hoseok entrance.

the inside of yoongi’s home is messy and small, full of old-fashioned furniture and clothes scattered everywhere, “grandma’s gonna kill me when she comes back,” yoongi laughs awkwardly, climbing up the stairs leading to the first floor and where his room is.

yoongi’s room is even worse, with barely any empty space on the floor to walk – clothes, cd’s, books and pieces of paper with all kinds of scrabbled words and doodles on them – so hoseok has to tiptoe his way to yoongi’s bed, mimicking his friend’s practiced movements.

“sorry about being weird this morning,” he starts timidly after they’ve sat down, “i just had a lot on my mind.”

“it’s okay,” yoongi nods, “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have pried.”

“there’s actually something i’m not telling you-” hoseok begins, when he notices a piece of paper with words written in verses, like song lyrics, stuck to his palm. he lifts it up to read yoongi’s messy handwriting and confirms his suspicions as correct, “what’s this?” he asks, looking up from the paper to yoongi’s flushed face and frantic hands reaching for it, “you never told me you write.”

“it’s uh,” yoongi attempts lamely, “it’s just a hobby, nothing serious.”

this ‘hobby’ seems everything _but_ nothing serious as, upon giving the room a more thorough examination, hoseok realizes all the notes covering the thick carpet consist of similar things; lyrics, poems, shorter and longer verses, some messier like they’ve been written in a hurry and some in neat handwriting that actually look like yoongi has put effort into them.

“they’re rap verses,” hoseok concludes when he notices the rhymes and wordplay within each strophe. he looks up to meet yoongi’s nervous eyes, the slight twitching in his legs and sweaty palms tangling in the short hairs on his nape, “you rap?”

“yeah,” yoongi sighs. he joins hoseok on the bed, throwing the crumpled pieces of paper on the mattress to the floor to join the rest of the rubbish, and carefully sits down, “that’s… that’s what i was busy doing on saturday. there’s this club in the neighborhood, they host rapping contests. i joined because i needed the extra cash. grandma can’t afford to take care of me as much as she could before.”

“that’s honestly admirable,” hoseok says, hoping he doesn’t sound too impressed; judging by the growing grin on yoongi’s face, he’s failing miserably, “did you ever win anything?”

“yep, this weekend actually,” yoongi fishes out his wallet to proudly showcase two fifty thousand won bills to hoseok, “and you’ll never guess who i competed against. kim namjoon!”

“what,” hoseok deadpans. the name rings through his head like church bells, over and over. kim namjoon, donghyuk’s namjoon, the one who said he likes him, participated in a rap competition against yoongi and _lost_ , “you’re kidding me.”

“nope! one hundred percent legit, we even talked a bit afterwards,” to this, the tips of yoongi’s ears turn a faint shade of pink, “he bought me a drink and congratulated me.”

“oh my god, of course he did,” hoseok rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny that he’s the least bit happy for yoongi, for the winning part mostly, “he should be more subtle about trying to get into your pants.”

“shut up,” yoongi answers, but his blush only deepens, bringing a shit-eating grin on hoseok’s face. his earlier anger dissipates like it had never even existed, “anyway, you were saying something?” yoongi reminds him and when he remembers what he’s here for in the first place, his throat tightens and ribs clench around his heart, palms suddenly sweaty.

“it’s, uh,” he starts, hesitant. he remembers hunchul, how shitty he looked and how desperate he was for hoseok to keep his mouth shut at any circumstance, and how his words angered hoseok like never before. he looks at yoongi and his curious face, pieces of paper with unsatisfactory lyrics crushed in his resting palm, and makes a spontaneous decision to change the subject, “i was wondering if i could come sometime? to one of your shows? unless you think i’d embarrass you, of course,” he adds just to see yoongi sputter and deny the statement with everything he’s got.

he knows very well, from the suspicious look in his eyes, that yoongi doesn’t believe him one bit, but he thankfully doesn’t inquire anything further, just nods enthusiastically as he recites him the time and the address of the club, “don’t dress like a total nerd, though,” yoongi warns hoseok on his way out, “it’s a hip hop club and i have a reputation to keep.”

hoseok nods in understanding and walks away with the sun setting across the horizon at his heels, yoongi’s club written down in his phone and hunchul’s secret still lodged deep in his chest, safe and unbothered.

 

hoseok’s not very fond of night clubs. bars are alright, he supposes, since they aren’t too noisy and crowded most of the time, if you know when to visit them. night clubs are a completely different story, especially on saturdays.

the club, _dope_ as the neon sign at the entrance says it’s called, is located in a literal basement. the bouncer had barely let him in since hoseok isn’t and doesn’t even remotely resemble a 21-year-old. he’d have probably ended up sitting outside in the chilly air if yoongi hadn’t have come out to check his whereabouts and found him being yelled at in front of impatient visitors waiting for their turn in the line.

“hey,” yoongi had placed a gentle hand on the bouncer’s shoulders, “he’s with me, hyung, let him pass.”

and so, hoseok finds himself surrounded by drunken bodies grinding on each other, bathed in multicolored lights, glitter and minimum amount of wet clothing, guided by yoongi’s steady grip towards the bar.

“fresh meat?” the bartender, a pretty looking guy with charcoal in the corners of his eyes and bitten red lips greets them, cleaning shot glasses with a used rag, “you never bring anyone in here, yoongi.”

“he’s my friend,” yoongi clarifies, warning clear in his tone. he guides hoseok until he’s safely sitting on the bar stool, sliding into the empty space next to him. the guy, seokjin as his nametag upon closer inspection on hoseok’s part says, fills up the shot glass he’s been rubbing clean only moments prior with transparent liquid and slides it across the counter to land right between yoongi’s fingers.

“perfect,” yoongi purrs, downing the contents in one go. it’s the first time hoseok’s seen yoongi look so relaxed, like he’s in his natural habitat – and he probably is, now that hoseok thinks about it – and he feels a rush of warmth spread through his body, like somehow he’s gotten to know yoongi just a tad bit better. finally.

“and for the pretty boy here?” seokjin winks at hoseok, leaning over the counter so that his defined biceps, uncovered by the tank top he’s wearing, flex underneath the flashing lights, making hoseok gulp visibly, “scotch? vodka? a _cock_ tail?”

hoseok’s mouth falls open, unsure how to reply to the innuendo, but yoongi sighs, swatting seokjin’s arms away until he’s just giggling to himself and back to sorting alcohol bottles in alphabetical order (or whatever it is bartenders do, hoseok doesn’t know), “he’ll just have a coke, thanks.”

“what a shame,” seokjin laughs to himself, passing hoseok a glass of ice cold coke with a lemon on top, “i had the perfect mix for him already prepared.”

hoseok gulps again, leaning closer to the safety of yoongi’s proximity, “he’s always like that, don’t mind him,” yoongi reassures him, rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers, tapping the counter top with his free hand for a refill.

seokjin obediently listens, giving him the same drink as before. yoongi doesn’t miss hoseok’s intrigued glance as he lifts the glass up to his lips, “do you want to try it?”

“what?” hoseok sputters, his grip tightening around his drink, “no thanks, i don’t really drink unless it’s for special occasions.”

“how very posh of you,” seokjin pipes in from his side, reemerging from behind the counter with a new bottle of a fluorescent green mix of drinks, pouring it in martini glasses for a couple of girls in skimpy clothing waiting for it on their left.

“well, he _is_ used to fancy parties only, right?” yoongi teases, his drink disappearing down his throat in the next second. hoseok’s chest and cheeks burn in embarrassment. it’s not his fault the only parties he’s seen were his father’s dinners.

“hyung,” he warns him, hoping to sound at least a little bit threatening. yoongi simply laughs at him, however, rising from his seat and only slightly stumbling on his feet until he finally catches his balance.

“i have to go prepare for my stage,” yoongi announces and hoseok almost reaches out to grab his wrists and prevent him from leaving, “cheer for me the loudest, okay?” despite the wish to tell him to stay, hoseok nods, gulping down the bile rising in his throat at the thought of being left alone with a flirty bartender and people he doesn’t know rubbing themselves on him, accidentally or not.

with those words, yoongi is gone, having disappeared into the crowd in a matter of minutes. not like that’s hard. it’s mostly dark in the club and the red, blue and purple lights do nothing to make it more visible. hoseok holds his glass even tighter, until the tips of his fingers turn white, and tries his best to ignore seokjin’s grin burning holes into his nape.

yoongi doesn’t take long – it’s maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes of upbeat techno music and female vocals remixed until they’re entirely unrecognizable drilling hoseok’s eardrums when everything goes quiet, even the drunken crowd, and a guy climbs on the small stage where the dj is hiding.

“welcome to another round of gloss versus runch randa,” the host says, voice a little breathy against the microphone head as his lips are completely glued to it, “as you all know, gloss won over runch last week but immediately got challenged for a rematch,” there’s a loud cheer from the audience as two other people climb the stage, the ones hoseok recognizes as yoongi and namjoon, “now it’s finally time to see what they’ve got in store for us. give them a round of applause, come on!”

as everyone bursts into enthusiastic clapping, hoseok’s forearm is nudged with a cold glass of refilled coke, seokjin speaking lowly into his ear, “last time got pretty intense, i can’t wait to see how this is gonna go.”

hoseok accepts the glass, carefully sipping on the soda inside, wondering why yoongi never mentioned anything about a rematch, or that he’s going against namjoon again. but, after watching them interact on stage, namjoon winking at yoongi and yoongi slitting his throat with his thumb, he figures it’s all yoongi’s personal choice. at this point he’s pretty sure they’ve both wanted this since the beginning.

the club is sizzling with energy, one that’s unleashed the second the first beat drops and namjoon, as the challenger, starts rapping first, spitting rhymes into the microphone and fluidly moving around the stage like he’s born there. hoseok’s own skin prickles with warmth, cheeks in a constant shade of red because of how warm it is in the basement. not even his drink is enough to cool him down. he’s completely entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him, yoongi picking up where namjoon left off with a different approach that makes the audience scream even louder than before, that he doesn’t notice someone sliding into the seat previously occupied by yoongi.

“damn,” seokjin whistles, popping open a bottle of beer and sliding it into the person’s hold without even being asked, “rough night?”

“you could say that,” a familiar voice gruffs out, to hoseok’s horror. he freezes in his seat, his body going numb on impulse. he’d recognize that voice absolutely _everywhere_.

“fucking report him already,” seokjin tells him, the wet rag now thrown over his shoulder as his fingers tap the counter top impatiently. donghyuk snorts at that, like seokjin’s just cracked a really bad joke.

“shut up and do your job, hyung,” he points at the customer waiting to be served. seokjin doesn’t look particularly amused but he listens anyway.

hoseok wets his lips, trying to stay invisible for as long as possible. maybe donghyuk won’t notice him in the barely lit room, if he keeps silent and to himself.

of course it doesn’t happen. of course donghyuk has to lean in even closer, taking a mild interest in the stranger next to him, squinting at him over the rim of his glass, a low “don’t you look familiar,” escaping his lips.

reluctantly, hoseok turns around. it’s not the hatred mixed with shock in donghyuk eyes or the muttered “the fuck are _you_ doing here?” that makes him gasp silently, since he’s grown used to them already; it’s rather the swell under donghyuk’s eyes, the band-aids that have bled through on his cheek and the faded bruising on his chin. donghyuk, in short, looks badly beaten up and really, _really_ pissed off.

donghyuk opens his mouth as if to say something more, ask him why he’s here or more likely just insult him, but seokjin interrupts him with a curious, “you two know each other?”

he looks genuinely interested, especially when donghyuk looks down at his glass again, saying “just a friend from school.”

hoseok’s ears perk up at the ‘friend’ – then again, it’s not like he can go around saying ‘he’s the guy i regularly beat up at school’. seokjin snorts, saying something about donghyuk not having any friends which earns him a snarl, and leaves to serve another girl already swaying on her feet. hoseok turns his head away, to the stage again, trusting donghyuk wouldn’t attempt to do anything with so many witnesses – no matter how drunk they are – around so he concentrates on watching yoongi interact with namjoon on stage. they’re both so fluid and natural in what they do that it’s too easy to get immersed in their rap. when hoseok sneaks a glance to his side, donghyuk isn’t there anymore.

he’s unsure if what he’s feeling is relief or disappointment and it confuses him more than anything else.

 

“i can’t believe he won,” yoongi complains over the phone, “he’ll never let me live this down.”

hoseok hums on the other line, too busy writing down notes on the first part of _crime and punishment_ , the book assignment that he’s so conveniently forgotten about, to really pay attention to yoongi’s antics.

“i have to challenge him for a rematch,” yoongi declares.

a sigh escapes him and hoseok puts down his pen, “you’ve been saying that the entire weekend. just do it already.”

“you know what?! i will!” for a second, yoongi sounds actually determined, but just as hoseok counts to five in his head, he adds, “not yet, though. not yet.”

“thought so,” hoseok adds as an afterthought and the line goes silent for a while. what he likes about phone calls with yoongi is that he can put his phone on the table top and leave it on speaker and just not say anything for a while, do homework or search for something online as yoongi does his own things, occasionally commenting on this and that. it’s relieving to know he doesn’t have to make small talk about nothing with him.

his stomach fills with panic, however, when he turns to page ninety-three out of six hundred and twenty-two and realizes that there’s no way in hell, even if he worked non-stop for the rest of the week, he’ll finish the report in time.

“oh god,” he mutters to himself, shaky fingers dropping the pen he’s holding. yoongi’s hum of interest overlaps with the blood boiling in his eardrums, “i can’t do it.”

“can’t do what?” youngi speaks up, already concerned, “hoseok? you okay?”

“the book report,” hoseok answers dejectedly. dostoyevsky’s face on the image gallery he googled earlier grins at him menacingly, “i can’t finish it on my own.”

“who says you have to?” his best friend is starting to sound angry now, “donghyuk’s your partner, he has to do his job as well.”

“no, he… he doesn’t want to.  he already ripped one of my notebooks, i don’t need him to rip _me_ too.”

there’s a sigh on yoongi’s part and hoseok can imagine him massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers, slightly frustrated, “you gotta start fighting back, hoseok-ah,” he tells him and hoseok has a protest ready on his tongue but yoongi interrupts him, “do you want to know how i learned how to fight?”

hoseok pauses in picking up his phone, turning the speaker off so his mom can’t overhear. it _is_ part of yoongi’s past he’s most interested in – his life outside of seoul, at the countryside. yoongi’s parents came from daegu, moved here when yoongi was only an infant, as the rumors say. when he was orphaned, he returned to his grandparents who lived in the outskirts of his hometown. hoseok’s wondered if all of that is true since the moment he’s met yoongi.

“y-yeah,” he answers, cursing his recurring stutter. yoongi doesn’t comment anything on it, though, just continues with his story, almost like he’s been wanting to spill his guts for a while now.

“when my parents died and i moved to live with my grandma, there was this kid in my school. he was quiet like a fucking mouse, no one ever heard him speak. you remind me of him a lot, actually,” he pauses to take a breath, “couldn’t fight back for shit. once, these three boys ganged up on him and saddled him on a stallion, even though the boy’s deathly afraid of horses. the animal wasn’t mean or anything but they riled it up and boom, it went on a rampage. the kid fell and broke his leg. i heard it crack mid-fall.”

hoseok cringes, getting up from his chair to lie in the bed and hide under the covers, still morbidly intrigued even though he feels sorry for the boy, “what- what did you do?”

“i was one of the three boys,” yoongi sighs, “i just wanted friends, to be honest. and to be noticed. the kids came up to me on the first day of school and said they wouldn’t talk shit about me around the village and their families in town if i hung out with them, so i did. but, what they did… that was fucking sick. so i clocked the leader in the jaw.”

he laughs, but it’s too dry to be an actual laugh. despite hearing the truth, hoseok finds that he just can’t be mad at him. at least yoongi’s had enough rationality to realize his wrongdoings, “and?” he inquires further, curious, “what happened next?”

“nothing, really. the leader got scared ‘cus i dislocated his jaw, threatened me some more about my family but nothing ever actually _happened_. then i realized we’re all just kids dealing with their own issues. that mousey kid ended up being a good friend of mine, actually,” yoongi’s tone turns fond, as if he’s reliving a pleasant memory, “he was my first kiss with a guy. or well, first kiss in general. he had to move schools not long after and wanted to thank me for saving him.”

now it’s hoseok who goes silent, mind wrapped up in what yoongi’s just told him. yoongi’s kind enough to be patient, sometimes fiddling with something that disrupts the line, but he waits until hoseok speaks up first, “so you-”

“i’m not like you,” yoongi clarifies, “i like everyone.”

“you like namjoon,” hoseok teases, imagining the punch to his shoulder yoongi would deliver for that comment. he only gets an offended, “shut up maybe?!” in return, though.

“so… you don’t mind? it doesn’t bother you?” hoseok’s a little surprised that he’s managed to push the question through his lips, something that’s been nagging him in the background of his thoughts for a while.

“why would it bother me? we can’t help what we like,” yoongi shrugs, “besides i’m not a hypocrite like some.”

the second sentence leaves his lips in a form of a snarl which leaves hoseok confused, “what do you mean?”

“whatever. the bottom line is, stand up for yourself.”

“i can’t,” hoseok says, “i’m not like you. i can’t fight – really, i _physically_ can’t fight, i can’t even lift up a chair for christ’s sake-”

“who says you have to fight him with fists? you’re smart, you know how to handle words,” yoongi shrugs. as soon as the words echo in his eardrums, hoseok gets an idea.

a potentially good, but mostly a very, very bad idea.


	3. iii

tuesday finds him in front of the library, a ragged exit to his right. he knows that’s where students sneak out to smoke during free periods because it’s a silent rule that the small grass area is not to be touched by any of the professors, the principal or members of staff. he also knows its where donghyuk and his gang of jocks spend their time skipping class and sneaking in beer when they’re not supposed to.

it’s a death penalty for him, hoseok is well aware of it. there’s a high chance that donghyuk’s there with his friends and they’re all very fond of tormenting hoseok until he wants to cry but he absolutely has to do this. the assignment is supposed to be sent in before 11:59 p.m this sunday and hoseok _really_ needs to pass this class.

luck is on his side, it seems, because when he carefully opens the door so they’d stay in their hinges, it’s slightly raining and donghyuk is sitting on a faraway bench alone.

he has a cigarette pressed to his lips, covering it with his hand so it wouldn’t get wet, and a hoodie to protect his head from the rain. hoseok pulls his own hood up and follows a small stone path to the bench donghyuk’s inhabiting, careful not to slip.

“donghyuk,” he speaks up when he’s sure he’s in his hearing area. donghyuk doesn’t even flinch at his name being called, only breathes in the smoke from his cigarette and shuffles his feet. from this angle, hoseok can see the bruises have faded, but there’s still a band-aid right under his eye.

when hoseok doesn’t move, wholeheartedly determined to walk out of the clearing with victory on his part, donghyuk sighs and grunts out a disinterested, “what?”

“the project,” hoseok reminds him, “due in five days. that we have to do. together.”

“i thought i told you that i’m not doing _shit_ for your stupid project,” donghyuk answers, the cigarette butt falling from his lips and onto the squishy ground where he can step on it until it becomes one with the mud.

“you have to,” hoseok presses on. his voice is slightly trembling at this point, intensifying when donghyuk gets up and struts forward and hoseok’s reminded of the size advantage donghyuk has on him, “i can’t do it on my own.”

“then maybe you should’ve started earlier instead of dicking around in clubs,” donghyuk says with a taunting smirk. he’s almost close enough to reach out and touch hoseok if he wants to, so hoseok takes a small step back.

“you have to,” he repeats himself, though. his heartbeat picks up when the tips of donghyuk’s sneakers brush against his, mouth open in a prepared reply or a threat, and he reacts on impulse, “or i’ll tell.”

donghyuk freezes. it’s kind of frightening how quickly he goes completely still, staring at hoseok dead in the eyes. the smile is gone, replaced by fury and hatred, “you wouldn’t dare,” donghyuk’s voice is cold like ice and hoseok is, to put it mildly, terrified.

but he refuses to back down. not this time. yoongi’s words of encouragement ring through his head and he’s going to _do this_ , damn it, “i know that people won’t listen to me,” he says, “so i’ll just tell yoongi and he can do the job for me. they like him more anyway.”

“you have no _fucking_ clue what-”

“and i don’t need to,” hoseok interrupts him, throwing donghyuk off. he’s thought about this similar situation before, a reply already prepared on his tongue, “i can just make something up,” of course, he has no intentions to tell on donghyuk and he hates lying but it’s somehow worth it when he sees a flash of fear in donghyuk’s eyes. the tables are turned now. the rush that warms hoseok’s blood is damn near sadistic, in a sense, “it’s not like people care about the legitimacy of a rumor. but they would know that their big bad alpha shin donghyuk isn’t quite as tough as they imagined.”

donghyuk’s silent for a full minute, his gaze hardening as time passes. he hides his shaking fists in the pockets of his hoodie and nods, “fine. tomorrow after school in the library, then. tell me what i have to do,” hoseok’s body is still numb from the realization that he’s managed to win the argument that the bump of donghyuk’s shoulder on his as he leaves barely registers in his mind.

“feels good, right?” he murmurs lowly but hoseok can hear him loud and clear, over the sound of his heart rapidly thumping against his ribs, “the feeling of overpowering someone? don’t get used to it. the high is only temporary.”

the rain stops when donghyuk leaves, door creaking shut. hoseok’s freezing cold in the clearing but he stays put until the bell rings and he has to rush to his math class.

donghyuk had been right. the high is so fleeting that all hoseok has left by the end of the day is an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

 

 _but you’ve done it_ , yoongi had said, _you’ve made a point that you’re not to be messed with. i’d still like to know_ how _of course, but a magician doesn’t reveal his secrets i suppose_.

 _i want to tell you_ , hoseok had answered _, but i just can’t._

and now he’s sitting opposite from donghyuk in the quiet library, scarce of population aside from the two of them and the cranky lady at the reception who initially wanted to throw donghyuk out for attempting to light a cigarette. hoseok’s still unsure how he’s managed to talk her out of it, or donghyuk to turn the cig off.

“you did all of this by yourself?” donghyuk asks absentmindedly, skimming through the ten pages of text hoseok’s written last night when insomnia hit him – the evidence of it being the dark circles under his eyes, “and you couldn’t do the other three hundred pages?”

“do you want me to die,” hoseok deadpans, too tired to care about his tone around donghyuk, “i have other homework too. i might be a nerd but i’m not a miracle worker.”

to his surprise, donghyuk doesn’t get angry with him or anything – in fact, he does the next most bizarre thing to getting up right now to step dance. he laughs.

it’s not salty or fake. it’s a genuine laugh, and if hoseok isn’t so exhausted and weirded out at the same time he might’ve laughed too.

“yeah i suppose you’re not,” he says eventually. hoseok slides him his own copy of _crime and punishment_ , a bookmark protruding from it indicating where he’s stopped reading and where donghyuk’s part starts, “i have to read all of this?”

“i made a copy of my notes so bring them home and just follow the scheme i’ve written down here,” hoseok explains, pointing his fingers where necessary as donghyuk attempts to follow, “i’ll write the conclusion so you don’t have to worry about that. also i’ll need your contact information to check if you’re actually working on the project or not. my phone and e-mail are here.”

he hands him a separate post it note with neat numbers written on it and donghyuk stares at it like it’s the first time he sees paper. finally, he rips a part of hoseok’s notebook, to hoseok’s annoyance, and doodles a few numbers and letters.

“don’t use it to send me dick pics,” he warns before placing it in hoseok’s awaiting palm.

“jesus,” hoseok rolls his eyes, “contrary to popular belief, i don’t want to jump on every boy i see just because i’m gay.”

“debatable, but alright,” they both get up when the librarian walks up to them, patting her wristwatch in warning that the library is almost closing. donghyuk shoves hoseok’s number in his back pocket and balances the reading material in his hands as they walk out and even waves at him to the best of his abilities when they part.

it almost feels nice, walking home without crippling fear nagging at his insides. but it’s too weird  for hoseok to really relax.

he can’t pinpoint if things are shifting for the better, or if they’re just building up to explode in something terrible. either way, he pats himself on the back for surviving this encounter, deciding to push those worrying thoughts away for now.

 

hoseok is at yoongi’s house when he gets a phone call from hunchul.

his ringtone is set on quiet, phone forgotten somewhere in yoongi’s sheets when the older has made him get up and walk over to his desk to read over the lyrics for his next performance at the club, so he barely hears something vibrating.

“hunchul,” he reads the dial screen, showing it briefly to yoongi who dismisses it with a wave of his hand, concentrating on his lyrics.

“just deny the call.”

“i haven’t heard from him since the wedding,” hoseok muses, “i wonder what he wants now.”

“then pick up,” yoongi rolls his eyes at him, “just don’t stand there like an idiot.”

“fine, i’ll stand _here_ like an idiot then,” he says, picking up and shoving yoongi’s discarded stuff away to stand next to the window instead of the center of the room, “hello?”

“hello? little brother?” hunchul’s a little out of breath, like he’s been walking for a while, “i was just about ready to hang up, thank god you answered!”

“what is it hyung,” hoseok sighs into the phone. hunchul sounds a little drunk when he continues, “ _i_ want to invite my darling brother to a _party_.”

“a party,” he repeats. _that’s_ what makes yoongi’s ears perk up too, and he’s off the chair and next to his side in a moment, mouthing the word along to a bewildered hoseok.

“because i love my baby bro so much,” hunchul continues, “and i think you need to get some. i can assure you there’ll be plenty – _plenty_ of guys with questionable morals when drunk there.”

“hyung!” hoseok gasps while yoongi, who eavesdropped on purpose, doubles over in laughter. _i don’t know why you make him out to be a bad guy_ , he mouths at hoseok, and the younger pushes him to the floor.

“it’s true. statistics show that the happiest people are the ones that are getting laid,” hunchul pauses, like that sentence was too much for him to say in one breath, “or whatever. i’m texting you the time and address because i can’t remember right now, and you better come,” with that, he hangs up, hoseok’s hand with the phone falling limply to his side.

it vibrates a second after with hunchul’s text, full of spelling mistakes so hoseok can’t recognize the street name at all.

“does this ring any bells?” he shows the message to yoongi, who grabs his phone with both palms and mumbles the address to himself until his face lights up like a light bulb.

“that’s namjoon’s house!” yoongi exclaims, pointing at the letters, “that’s his address and that’s his apartment building number!”

“…and how do you know this?”

“that’s none of your business,” yoongi hisses out his answer, “i can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this? hoseok, we _have_ to go.”

“are you serious? i’m not going,” hoseok shakes his head, stealing his phone from yoongi, “this is probably part of hunchul’s plan to humiliate me somehow,” images of hunchul kissing that boy – siyoung, as he had called him – flash through his mind and hoseok stops in the midst of moving away from yoongi’s side, “actually.”

“yes! you need to get laid! and i need to beat the shit out of namjoon in front of everyone,” yoongi says, following closely at hoseok’s heels and avoiding a punch aimed at his chest.

“more like make out with him,” hoseok corrects and further ignores yoongi protests, mulling over something in his head.

he’s definitely sucking up to him so he wouldn’t tell, that much is clear. although, hoseok hasn’t thought about it much since it happened. his anger has mostly left him because of that. seeing hunchul again, however, might ignite the flames again and, while hoseok isn’t the one to make a scene, hunchul can be kind of dramatic when he wants to.

“come on,” yoongi whines, a steady grip on hoseok’s cold wrist, “ _please_ let’s go. i _need_ to teach namjoon a lesson.”

“make out with him,” hoseok repeats. but the more he thinks about it, the more he _wants_ to go. if nothing, then for the pleasure of splashing cheap beer in hunchul’s face when he says something inappropriate while drunk, “i can’t believe i’m going to say this but, alright. let’s go.”

“really?” yoongi’s eyes shine a little too bright for a second, a little too excited, though he catches himself on time, “i mean, oh, okay. if you insist.”

“so obvious,” hoseok murmurs, “but if something goes wrong, i am fully blaming _you_ for it.”

 

the party is in its full swing when hoseok and yoongi arrive. yoongi’s even talked hoseok into wearing makeup - nothing too much, a speck of eyeliner near the corners of his eyes just how he likes - reassuring him the entire ride to namjoon’s place that it looks perfectly fine. hoseok still has a hard time believing him, even when literally nobody pays attention to them. the ones who do, however, don’t seem all to disgusted by what they see.

that, or they’re extremely good at hiding it.

“see,” yoongi says next to him, right into his ear so hoseok could hear him over the loud music, “i told you everything will go well.”

“we’ve only just arrived,” hoseok notes, feeling itchy all over. the dress shirt is a little tight on him since it’s originally yoongi’s, but yoongi’s insisted he looks “thick” in it; whatever that means. the urge to hide from all the imaginary eyes on him shows up stronger than ever but yoongi doesn’t give him a chance to back down. he grabs his arm and leads him towards the coffee table where the drinks are, thrusting a paper cup into his hand.

“vodka and tonic,” yoongi informs him. hoseok sniffs the content of the cup and frowns at the sour scent, but taking a sip of it, there is no expected bitter aftertaste, “stay here. i’ll go find namjoon.”

of course, hoseok thinks, yoongi will ditch him for his boyfriend-but-not-really the first chance he gets. he’s even stolen the drink from him. he waves his hand nonchalantly though and doesn’t say anything since he’s not in the place to do so. it’d be too selfish of him to ask yoongi to stay with him when he has a chance to get into namjoon’s pants, despite him constantly claiming otherwise.

besides, he’s here on a mission to find hunchul. fifteen minutes into the party and the older is still nowhere to be seen. hoseok had reluctantly texted him while he and yoongi were still in the taxi but when he checks his phone, the message is still left on unread. then again, he can’t be that far away; there are a lot of people here, but namjoon’s house isn’t a mansion that’s easy to get lost in.

he explores the kitchen first, since it’s mostly empty sans a boy and a girl kissing leaned on the fridge. hoseok walks out of there just as he’s walked in when he realizes the guy’s palm is diligently working under the girl’s skirt, her light moans filling the room.

he checks the bathrooms on the first floor, pretty sure he’s walked in on namjoon and yoongi at some point but pretended he suddenly can’t see, and the hallways before he decides it’s time to go back to the living room, the hotspot of the party. the music there is blasting the loudest, some remix of a drake song, and there are a few people dancing, some of them sitting on the leather sofa and making out, some just standing on the sidelines to drink and talk with as little disturbance as possible.

that’s where he sees hunchul and – he stops dead in his tracks – donghyuk is with him, talking about something with a frown on his face and a plastic cup pressed to his lips.

_god, wait till hunchul hears about this, he’s gonna love it…_

how could he forget? before hunchul graduated, he was the original leader of donghyuk’s clique; the one that tormented freshmen the most, the school’s most desired and most feared. donghyuk was his right hand so it was only natural that he’d take over once hunchul left. and back then, when they were all freshmen and hunchul was a junior, it was hunchul who urged them on in tormenting hoseok, his hatred towards him painfully obvious.

just as he predicted, the mere remembrance of that awful period brings angry tears to the forefront of hoseok’s vision. but he presses on, moves forward until he’s in their line of sight and hunchul can spot him, his excitement to see him overly exaggerated.

that was then, and this is now, hoseok assures himself. hunchul’s childish hate and blaming hoseok for ruining his family morphed into boredom and disinterest as he grew older. apart from teasing, he wouldn’t physically hurt him. donghyuk, however… donghyuk is a story for himself.

he appears unimpressed by hoseok’s presence, which is not enough relieving as much as it’s alarming since hoseok’s not used to a period this long without any death threats or public humiliation. donghyuk seems to have more important things on his mind tonight; he doesn’t say a word during hunchul and hoseok’s interaction.

“baby brother!” hunchul greets him by pulling him into a bone crushingly tight hug, “i’m so glad you came.”

 _lie_ , hoseok thinks but he returns hunchul’s fake smile. hunchul’s taller than him by a few centimeters and in this position, lodged between his chin and shoulders, hoseok can see the hickeys on the side of his neck, badly covered up by makeup, and his grin turns genuine.

“o-of course, i wouldn’t miss meeting your new girlfriend for nothing,” hoseok says when he pulls away (or, more specifically, hunchul lightly pushes him away, careful it wouldn’t be too obvious). hunchul’s gaze hardens and turns into death rays while looking down at him, and donghyuk’s ears perk up at that, looking up from the phone he’s taken out of his pocket in the meantime to glance at hunchul in surprise.

“girlfriend? you never said anything about that,” he says curiously and hunchul’s jaw tightens as he bites the inside of his cheek, controlling the urge to slap the back of hoseok’s head as hard as he used to when they were kids in fear of making a scene.

“yeah, she couldn’t make it tonight, i’m sorry,” hunchul lies smoothly and hoseok visibly deflates. how disappointing.

“okay,” donghyuk shrugs, “i have to go meet hyosang at the front. by the way,” he brushes hoseok’s shoulder on his way out, “i finished the thing yesterday.”

“and you didn’t bother to text me?” hoseok asks but donghyuk’s already gone out the door and into the hallway. relief washes over him for multiple reasons – the lack of donghyuk’s presence and the fact that he doesn’t have to worry over their stupid project anymore – but it’s short lived when hunchul grabs a handful of his hair and pulls him close so it doesn’t look like he’s hurting him, more like they’re just having casual conversation.

“what the fuck was that?” hunchul murmurs into his ear, tone laced with venom and bad intentions.

“i don’t know,” hoseok retorts, “what the fuck are _those_?” he points to the marks hunchul’s hiding with his free hand, “girlfriend or _siyoung_?”

“stop fucking prying,” hunchul hisses back, pulling on the strands of hair he has between his fingertips hard enough to make hoseok’s eyes water, bending his neck backwards but making sure it still seems like hoseok’s just leaning on him for support, “whatever kind of ‘upper hand’ you think you have here, forget about it.”

“i’m not going to _tell_ ,” the younger hisses at the pain in his scalp. he doesn’t attempt to free himself of hunchul’s grip since he knows from experience that’ll only make everything worse. hunchul’s breath smells like nasty alcohol already and a drunken hunchul is never a good hunchul to deal with, “if that’s what you’re worried about. just go back to fucking your boy who’s a friend. i don’t care.”

“really,” hunchul grits out, surprisingly letting go of hoseok who immediately scrambles as far away from him as possible in their situation, “well, i’m glad we discussed this then. enjoy the party,” he adds with a sly smile, patting hoseok on the shoulders and turning him in the direction of namjoon and yoongi talking – but mostly making ogly eyes at each other – in the very far corner of the room, barely noticeable, “follow your friend’s lead, at least.”

hunchul doesn’t stick around long enough to see the angry flush in hoseok’s cheeks; he’s gone in the direction of the kitchen, pushing past people trying to drunkenly grind against each other to the rhythm of the music.

hoseok briefly considers walking over to namjoon and yoongi, but he changes directions once he takes a step forward and sees them loosely holding hands. he definitely doesn’t want to intrude on something that seems like a private moment so he takes a turn towards the small table filled with different drinks. he’s surprised he’s managed to find a clear cup to pour the first bottle of alcohol he sees on the first try.

he tastes the liquid with the tip of his tongue and is not overly impressed by it’s bitter taste; nothing different than any other drink out there. it proves as a distraction, though, and he doesn’t look like a total loser just standing in the background and watching people too intoxicated to see him – or only one of him, at least.

he spends the next half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes at most like that, sometimes moving to sit down on the leather armrest in the corner when it’s free of some couple trying to grope each other without actually taking off their clothes, sometimes leaning on the wall, most of the drink in his cup left intact. he hasn’t seen yoongi or namjoon since, but it’s not like this outcome wasn’t expected. hoseok just hopes yoongi won’t _fight_ namjoon too hard.

he checks the time on his phone – it’s just past eleven p.m. – and realizes that he hasn’t made a deal with yoongi about when they’ll leave or where they’ll meet or anything.

“great,” he groans to himself, sliding the device back into his pocket.

“yes you are, love,” a voice slurs next to him. hoseok lifts his head up and regrets it instantly; he can clearly taste the vodka on hyosang’s breath when the older boy leans in, the bottle half-empty and unsteady in his grip.

out of all donghyuk’s friends he sees hyosang the least, but none of them ever make any special effort to bother him unless it’s under donghyuk’s specific orders. hoseok finds it a little weird that hyosang would seek him out specifically – and there’s no doubt he’s come here for that sole reason since the space around hoseok has cleared in the meantime, leaving only the two of them with a reluctant taegyun trying to hold hyosang back to the best of his tipsy abilities.

“come on man,” taegyun nags behind him, tugging on his free hand. hyosang frees himself of taegyun’s grip easily enough, though, muttering an annoyed, “let me go.”

“he’s looking for us, come on…”

“no!” hyosang refuses, taking a step forward so he’s practically glued to hoseok’s side. it truly _has_ been a while since hoseok’s seen hyosang – he’s all skin and bones now, too pale for it to be considered healthy, “i’ve always been curious,” hoseok’s heart picks up in speed, stomach churning in growing fear when hyosang’s empty hand circles around his wrist to pull him closer, “what’s so fucking _special_ about you that he won’t stop talking…”

“hyung!” taegyun sounds close to desperate now, but hyosang ignores him. the back of his hand and his bony knuckles caress hoseok’s cheekbones absentmindedly as he studies hoseok’s face, pupils blown and not entirely focused on him. hoseok tries to back away, the growing discomfort threatening to spill any second unless hyosang leaves him alone.

“shut the fuck up!” hyosang turns around to hiss at him and hoseok sees that as a chance to escape. he ducks under hyosang’s arm trapping him to the wall and almost manages to make a run for it when hyosang pulls him back, an amused chuckle leaving his dry lips, “and _you’re_ not going anywhere.”

he pushes hoseok backwards until his head painfully hits the wall behind him; the impact barely registers because hyosang has his palms full of hoseok’s collar, lifting him up on his tiptoes to meet his eyes and grinning maniacally at him. the situation is familiar but foreign at the same time and even though hoseok wants to scream, shout, make any sort of sound at all, nothing comes out.

hyosang is so close their noses are almost touching, his grip too tight for someone so thin and fragile looking. he presses his thumb on hoseok's adam's apple, obstructing the flow of air in hoseok's lungs and the younger chokes on nothing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

taegyun is trembling behind him, looking back and forth but no one is paying them any mind, “he’s right about one thing, though,” hyosang murmurs lowly, so low that if they weren’t practically kissing, hoseok wouldn’t’ve heard him, “you really are a pretty boy…”

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

taegyun lets out a squeak of surprise at being pushed back, almost falling to the floor on unsteady feet. hyosang lets go of hoseok immediately, not because he wants to, but because donghyuk has his hand around hyosang’s neck, pulling him off hoseok and into the empty space on the wall next to him.

the relief at being free once again washes over him and his knees feel weak but he refuses to give in. he flinches at the glass bottle splitting into pieces when it hits the ground after donghyuk openly slams hyosang into the wall.

“keep your hands off of him,” donghyuk growls out, maintaining deathly eye contact with hyosang. the older looks a little shaken up at being manhandled like this, finding himself at a loss of words, “how many times do i need to spell it out for you? he’s _mine_.”

hyosang nods feverishly, desperate to be let go – probably in a rush to throw up, too. donghyuk releases his grip on him and he scrambles towards taegyun, who leads him out of the room and into the nearest bathroom, leaving hoseok alone with a pissed off donghyuk.

hoseok’s skin is positively burning; not only because of the hot air in the enclosed space they’re in or even what just happened, but the way donghyuk’s looking at him up and down, like he’s angry, sorry, drunk and worried, all at the same time. his neck still prickles with the after effects of his oesophagus being crushed by hyosang and fear of donghyuk finishing what he’s started, but nothing happens.

“you alright?” donghyuk lifts an eyebrow at him and hoseok nods automatically even though he’s nowhere _near_ alright. he’s pretty sure he’ll follow hyosang’s lead after – _if_ – donghyuk leaves and throw up his dinner, “he didn’t touch you?”

“n-no,” hoseok croaks out, realizing that he _could have_ – hyosang’s intentions start catching up with him in that moment and he suddenly wants to cry again.

donghyuk hums in acknowledgment and gives him another once-over, as if to make sure of it himself, and walks away without another word; not directed at hoseok, at least, since he’s pretty sure he’s heard him mutter “gonna get so fucking drunk,” to himself. hoseok can’t be sure, though. he’s too busy rushing through the nearest door, which happens to be the kitchen, and emptying his stomach into the sink.

he finally succumbs to his urges and slides down to the polished floor, back leaning on the cupboard under the sink after washing his mouth with cold water. his head feels heavy and his heart _won’t stop thumping_ like a hummingbird’s. everything washes over him at once. he just wants to go home.

he waits a few minutes until his headache subsides and hands stop shaking so much so he can pull out his phone to text yoongi. _wher r u_ , he types in and punches send, staring at his phone screen until a reply arrives.

it doesn’t, though. ten minutes turn to fifteen and twenty and his phone doesn’t light up with a new notification, nor does his message change from ‘unread’ to ‘read’. at least nobody enters the kitchen so hoseok’s alone when his tears finally spill. it’s been so long since the last time he’s cried. they burn a path down his cheeks and drip from a meeting point on his chin onto the back of his hands. he brings his knees closer to his chest to ease the cramping pain in his abdomen and leans his forehead on them.

he supposes he should get up and move, do _something_ , but he’s too weak. mostly, he’s worried for yoongi. his lack of response only adds to hoseok’s growing discomfort, although the rational part of his brain tells him he’s probably too busy with namjoon to answer.

it’s not like yoongi’s expected any of this to happen. hoseok hasn’t either, especially not the part where donghyuk isn’t his abuser, but his savior.

when the clock strikes midnight, hoseok decides it’s time to go home on his own. despite his heavy hands, puffy eyes and a runny nose, he pulls out his phone, texts yoongi that he’s leaving and searches for the taxi service number he and yoongi used to get here.

the lady at the central tells him he has to wait at least half an hour before a free taxi can pick him up at his desired location. something about a busy night, she’s tried to explain, but hoseok stopped listening at that point. half an hour more to survive here. he thinks he can manage anything right now, just to finally get out.

he spots a back entrance next to the fridge and sneaks out through there, walking around the house to the steps at the front. the doors there are closed although he can see the party atmosphere in the house hasn’t wavered through the blurry side glass. he sits on the first step from the top and wraps his arms around himself for warmth.

“cold?” a voice asks and hoseok all but shrieks in surprise. he hasn’t even noticed someone leaning on the column supporting the ledge on the small front terrace, “should’ve brought a jacket.”

hoseok wonders how many times he can meet donghyuk before it stops being a coincidence. the other boy is smoking again, swaying on his feet a little when he pushes himself off the column and moves to sit next to hoseok.

he’s close and it would be uncomfortable in other circumstances, except he’s emitting warmth that hoseok desperately needs, and doesn’t really attempt to do anything - doesn’t even look at him actually, too focused on the trees and the empty street bathed in orange lights ahead of them.

“hyosang’s a fucking idiot,” donghyuk says after a few moments of silence. hoseok does his best to ignore donghyuk’s knee brushing against his, fingering the corners of his phone in his pocket just in case, but this sudden conversation topic piques his interest despite himself, “dunno what he’s told you but he’s an idiot. don’t listen to him.”

“donghyuk, are you drunk?” hoseok asks, proud of how steady his voice came out when he spoke. donghyuk snorts, as if to say ‘isn’t it fucking obvious’ and hoseok’s cheeks redden once again.

“don’t worry,” he adds, “i won’t try anything.”

and somehow, hoseok actually believes him. it’s not like he wouldn’t’ve tried already if that truly are his intentions. donghyuk’s far too busy trying to keep himself upright and his eyes open, as well as the cigarette safe between his lips, “shit’s expensive,” he adds after pulling in a smoke.

it’s silent again, and hoseok thinks about maybe pulling out his phone to play games and check the time – surely it’s been over ten minutes, his taxi should come any time now, he assures himself – when donghyuk speaks up, picking out his words carefully so he wouldn’t fuck the pronounciation up, “can i ask you something?”

“alright?” hoseok reluctantly agrees.

“you ever kissed a boy?”

hoseok flushes, surely not expecting _that_. ‘why are you so fucking lame?’, maybe, or ‘why are you still in my general presence?’, but definitely not that.

“no,” he admits quietly, but it’s not like he’s had many opportunities to. all the boys he’s met aside from yoongi were homophobic assholes. although, the thought of kissing boys _is_ something he’s endorsed often.

“then how do you know?” donghyuk continues. he shifts so he’s now looking directly at hoseok, gaze so hot hoseok feels like it’s burning holes in him, “like, what makes you absolutely _sure_ you don’t like girls?”

“i don’t know?” hoseok answers. he’s never particularly questioned his preference; girls just haven’t interested him like that, “girls are nice, but i don’t want them to kiss or touch me,” he blushes even darker when he registers the hidden meaning behind his words.

“huh,” donghyuk hums, either not noticing the dilemma hoseok’s going through or not really caring. he seems to have fallen back into his own train of thought, or has maybe passed out with his eyes half-open; his head is hanging dangerously close to hoseok’s shoulder but he manages to catch himself from falling over.

“once,” donghyuk says suddenly, startling hoseok who has gone to a peaceful daydream, desperately ignoring donghyuk’s natural scent mixed with alcohol burning his nostrils, “i called a boy cute in front of my old man. earned me these,” he turns with his back to hoseok, lifting up his hoodie to reveal the faded scars scattered across his lower back and expanding further upwards. hoseok quickly scans the wounds, not daring to look at the exposed skin longer than necessary, “the oldest ones are- near the middle, i think,” he pauses, “’there ain’t no damn fags in my house’,” he imitates a voice, presumably his father’s, hoseok figures, although it turns out as more of a snarl than anything, and donghyuk’s head falls limply forward again, “he’s dramatic like that.”

“that’s horrible,” hoseok says, shocked. the way donghyuk talks about it so casual, like he’s talking about the weather or what he’s had for lunch today. hoseok thinks back to his own father and how awful it is to have to hide a part of himself from him; he thinks back to the time he called the boy next to him cute and what it’s gotten him into, and slowly starts to understand.

“you’re an asshole,” he concludes, “but no one deserves to be treated like that. not even you.”

“oh, i didn’t get the rest for likin’ boys,” donghyuk stops again, his eyes rolling backwards for a second before returning back to their original place. hoseok debates reaching his hand forward to steady him but he’s too anxious to move; lord knows what crazy thing donghyuk might come up with next, “no, scratch that: i _don’t_ like boys. got the rest ‘cuz my dad’s an alcoholic good-for-nothing rat.”

he spits the insult out like it’s poison. hoseok’s heart feels heavy with this newfound information; the bruises and marks he’s seen donghyuk wear suddenly begin to make sense. he hasn’t thought much on them, assuming donghyuk’s got a lot of enemies. he never would’ve guessed his only enemy lives in his own home.

“i fucking hate him,” donghyuk says, this time leaning his head on hoseok’s shoulder, “fuckin’ douchebag.”

“listen, i-” hoseok’s sentence gets interrupted mid-attempt at pushing him off when donghyuk snores – actually _snores_ – and falls forwards, headfirst into hoseok’s lap, causing him to squeak in surprise. that’s the exact moment his cab decides to arrive, parking in the empty space right in front of namjoon’s house.

“need help?” the driver shouts, amusement evident in his tone. hoseok looks down at donghyuk drooling peacefully on his thigh, and nods dejectedly, accepting his fate.

 

donghyuk doesn’t wake up the entire ride to hoseok’s apartment building. a few regular check ups for steady breaths assure hoseok he’s not dead, though, so he can fully focus on forming a plan.

he can’t take donghyuk to his own house – first reason being, he has no idea where he lives, the second being his newly found family situation. there’s no way hoseok is dealing with donghyuk’s dad and since he’s a man of morals, he couldn’t quite leave donghyuk to lie on the front porch like that. namjoon would’ve surely taken care of him, but he’d have to climb out of yoongi’s ass to do that, which hoseok assumes is highly unlikely before dawn.

“what if he catches a cold or something,” hoseok says out loud, looking straight at the driver who gives him a strange look that reflects in the rearview mirror. realizing what he’s done, he looks down with an embarrassed flush – once again, a bad idea, because now he has a clear view of donghyuk’s passed out face.

his hair is matted to his forehead, so long it pokes the swollen skin of his eyelids. only now does hoseok notice the visible dark circles that show just how tired he is, and the tiny freckles across his face that he usually misses. he looks so human and vulnerable; it’s odd to see him like this.

it feels weird to stare at him while he’s passed out, so hoseok focuses his gaze on something else – the fast moving buildings, blurry street lights, faceless people they rush past. they’re almost in hoseok’s neighbourhood, he can tell from the market he recognizes briefly. just a few more minutes and they’ll be in front of his home.

he silently thanks the existence of elevators once the driver helps him drag donghyuk’s lifeless body to the front entrance, clumsily dropping the taxi fee into the older man’s palm. it takes great effort on his part just to keep donghyuk from toppling over and falling face first to the carpeted floor as he simultaneously punches his floor’s number – he doesn’t even want to imagine what it’d be like if he had to drag him up the staircase.

he hopes his mother is fast asleep – she should be, since it’s almost one a.m and hoseok’s told her she doesn’t have to stay up for him this time – but he’s still careful when he unlocks the front door. by that time, donghyuk’s started making sounds of protest, slowly waking up from being dragged around like a sack of potatoes. hoseok’s surprised he’s even managed to last that long; whatever he’s had to drink has really gotten to him.

“whas’ happenin’?” he groans in hoseok’s ear, leaning on him for support. despite the butterflies from donghyuk’s close proximity he’s ignored so far in favour of getting them both inside the safety of his room, he whips his head around to shush him just as the door creak open, letting them in.

the noise annoys donghyuk further and he rests his chin on hoseok’s shoulder as the shorter boy leads them to his bedroom, nuzzling his neck in the process, “mmm, warm,” he murmurs, sending involuntary shivers down hoseok’s spine.

hoseok allows himself to inhale and exhale properly once he finally pushes donghyuk on his bed. he immediately latches on to hoseok’s blanket, mumbling more unintelligible words until he stills completely.

 _unbelievable_ , hoseok thinks to himself. he wonders what yoongi will say when he hears about this- _right! yoongi!_

his phone is blinking with a new notification when he pulls it out of his pocket; as expected, it’s a few worried texts from yoongi: _sorry i was busy_ and _did u get home safe?? txt me_ is what hereads on the screen. for a split second hoseok actually considers not replying to give yoongi a taste of his own medicine, but the very thought of it makes him feel guilty, so he sits on the edge of the bed, donghyuk’s folded knees poking his lower back, and types his answer.

 _im safe, u wont believe whos with me_. he presses send and locks his screen, glancing at donghyuk. his eyes are open and hoseok nearly backs away with a yelp.

“wha time isit,” donghyuk slurs, words muffled by his cheek squished with hoseok’s pillow, “one,” hoseok answers, leaning over to put his phone on the nightstand, under the small lamp.

“’s late,” donghyuk continues, rubbing his eyelids with palms that feel too heavy to keep his arm upright.

“go back to sleep,” hoseok orders him quietly. he has no idea where he’ll sleep tonight. the living room would be ideal, but his mother will ask questions in the morning – she doesn’t enter his room until hoseok wakes up on his own, so his safest option for now is the floor. at least his carpet is fluffy and comfortable, if nothing.

the silence in the room fills with donghyuk’s steady breathing, but hoseok waits a few moments more just to make sure he won’t disrupt him when he moves. why he’s being so considerate, he doesn’t know. probably wouldn’t even be able to explain it if someone asked him that question even years from now, but, at least his soul is at peace for doing the right thing.

he’s pretty sure donghyuk’s passed out again at this point so he slowly starts getting up to dig out some extra blankets from his closet if he wants to catch any sleep tonight. a loose grip around his slightly aching wrist stops him, though.

“i finished the thing,” donghyuk even manages to smirk, albeit lopsidedly, and it fades as soon as it appears, “the book thing.”

“yeah,” hoseok nods, at a loss of anything better to say. donghyuk’s eyes open wider, like he’s deliberately putting effort into keeping them that way, and to hoseok’s horror, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“i’m good, right?” he asks, voice breaking near the end of his question. hoseok’s lips fall open in surprise but he nods again automatically, just to prevent donghyuk’s tears from spilling, “sure,” he supplies, scooting closer when donghyuk’s fingers fidget on his skin in an attempt to tighten the hold he has on him.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks out weakly and there’s nothing hoseok can do but to watch as donghyuk crumbles in front of him, “i’m sorry,” he repeats again, and again, until hoseok’s gentle touch is in his hair, massaging comforting circles into his scalp, “please don’t go.”

it’s like an out-of-body experience, hoseok concludes as donghyuk visibly relaxes at his ministrations, drifting into a dreamless sleep for real this time. there’s just enough space for him to fit when he slides underneath the covers, the fatigue finally catching up to him. he vows he’ll wake up before donghyuk does and make himself a bed on the floor, but for now, he’s too tired to think about anything else but a well-deserved rest.


	4. iv

of course, hoseok doesn’t wake up on time. in fact, he wakes up in someone’s warm arms, met with a wide, broad chest dressed in a hoodie that still stinks of alcohol. his eyes trail upwards to inspect that someone’s face, finding that he’s already staring back at him.

it’s like a scene from a cartoon – they both jump out of the bed at the speed of light, hoseok scrambling with the sheets and landing gracefully on his ass as donghyuk lets out the manliest of squeals on the other side.

“the fuck?!” he shouts, startling himself in the process at the loud noise in his hungover state. he looks, horrified, from himself, to the bed, to hoseok nursing his pained bottom, and back to the bed again, “we- don’t tell me we-”

“relax,” hoseok groans, getting up and regretting it immediately. his vision clouds with colourful dots as he sways on his feet, momentarily disoriented, “you passed out, nothing happened.”

“where the fuck am i?” donghyuk continues, rampaging through the room like the answer will present itself to him the angrier he gets.

“m-my room,” hoseok stutters when donghyuk marches over to him, his entire body aching from sleeping in last night’s tight clothes without a proper shower or anything.

“the fuck am i doing here?” donghyuk hisses the question out, towering over hoseok in all his height and backing him up towards the wall.

“w-well,” hoseok starts, his unease growing now that donghyuk’s sober and staring at him so intensely up close, “you kind of… passed out on me and i couldn’t wake you up or take you home so i had no other option but bring you here,” he blurts out in one breath. donghyuk’s brows scrunch up in confusion as he tries to decipher the meaning behind hoseok’s words, brain still working slow.

“passed out on you?” he repeats, “wait, don’t tell me i-”

the door opens mid-donghyuk’s sentence, introducing hoseok’s mom to the partially lit, messy room, “are you okay? i thought i heard-” there’s dead silence for a few seconds, in which all three of them freeze in the spot and exchange awkward looks, and then the older woman sighs, bending her elbow at the hip, “you could’ve just told me you’re having someone over.”

“i- it’s not- it’s not like that!” hoseok exclaims and donghyuk follows his lead, with lot less stuttering and more annoyance rather than anything else, but his mom’s eyes have already turned into little hearts.

“i can’t believe you didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend!” she even sounds offended, ignoring the boys’ signs of protest, “sneaking behind my back, i thought i taught you better than that.”

“mom!” hoseok tries again, voice laced with desperation as donghyuk fumes next to him, shooting arrows at the back of his head.

“i think i’ll go,” donghyuk says, pointing at the door hoseok’s mom is blocking. however, when he takes a step forward, she gives him one of her nicest smiles and asks:

“shouldn’t you at least stay for breakfast?”

 

what donghyuk learns is that there’s no way to convince hoseok’s mom the opposite of what she has in mind. no matter how much he’s protested, saying he should _really_ get home before his parents call the police (hoseok snorts at that) or that he’s left the stove on, he still finds himself sitting at the dining room table, hoseok fidgeting nervously on his left, with fat pancakes steaming from the plate hoseok’s mom places in front of him.

“this is weird,” he says absentmindedly while she leaves them alone to wash the dishes. hoseok lifts his head from his plate to look at him incredulously – what’s so weird about breakfast?

“i don’t remember ever actually eating breakfast with my old man,” donghyuk murmurs, more to himself than anything else. hoseok pretends like he can’t hear him, assuming that he wouldn’t appreciate being heard very much. he shakes his head a moment later and speaks up louder, “thank you for the meal,” addressing hoseok’s mom who gives him a smile over her shoulder.

“you can go,” hoseok says a moment later, “i’m sorry for this. she’s just… well i’ve never had anyone over and she knows i don’t have any friends so…”

“ah, well,” donghyuk falters, awkwardly glancing from hoseok to the untouched pancakes to hoseok again, and nods, “yeah i should go.”

they stumble around the chairs and the table as quietly as possible so hoseok’s mom wouldn’t hear them and make a fuss over donghyuk leaving their house hungry. donghyuk’s awkward again when they reach the door, unsure what to do with his hands.

“well,” he starts, choosing the safest option of grabbing the doorknob and turning it, only for it not to budge an inch. hoseok gently pushes past him to unlock them, opening the door for donghyuk, “thank you?”

“don’t mention it,” hoseok shrugs, then stiffs and adds, “really, _don’t_ mention it.”

“i’m not crazy,” donghyuk says, a little too fast. his eyes meet hoseok’s and he looks down to the tips of his sneakers before hoseok can realize how embarrassing this whole situation is for him, “as far as i’m concerned, none of this ever happened.”

“alright. i’ll send in the finished project tonight so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“alright.”

with a nod and a quick glance towards the kitchen to make sure hoseok’s mom hasn’t noticed them yet, he leaves in a hurry, pulling his hood on in the process. hoseok half expects him to turn around, but he doesn’t, and he immediately feels silly for even considering it.

however, as he slams the door shut and ignores his mom’s protests of “i didn’t even get to take a picture of you guys!” and “at least finish your meal!”, he can’t shake off the feeling that something has changed.

 

“you know,” yoongi says, or at least does his best attempt at saying it through a mouthful of cafeteria food, “i don’t know wha’s weirder. him sleeping over at your place while drunk or him not even minding it that much.”

“what do you mean?” hoseok asks, poking at his colourless meat and peas. taehyung is messily chugging down chocolate milk next to him with his specs threatening to fall off his nose any second.

“well, haven’t you noticed? he hasn’t touched you this week. barely even looked at you, actually. even namjoon’s worried. it’s been ages since he’s mentioned how annoying you are.”

“wow, what a relief,” the younger rolls his eyes. although, yoongi is right. it _is_ weird. it especially shows during the classes they’re forced to sit in each other’s premise; while donghyuk used to take great pleasure in throwing pieces of gum or paper at hoseok, now he acts like he doesn’t exist at all, doesn’t spare him a glance.

“like, he would’ve at least locked you in the boy’s bathroom for an entire day for that,” yoongi looks straight at taehyung, startling the boy, “right?”

“r-right,” taehyung nods along enthusiastically, though hoseok’s pretty sure he has no idea what he’s actually agreeing to.

“why are we even talking about this?” hoseok sighs. it’s been a wonderful week of ignoring what’s happened last weekend so far and yoongi seems to be set out to ruin it for him.

“i don’t know, don’t you just find it weird?”

“mostly relieving, but whatever you say hyung.”

“i wish i-i was that lucky,” taehyung murmurs over the straw lodged between his teeth, “this is the first lunch i’m eating without jimin pestering me.”

hoseok reaches out to pet taehyung’s wrist in comfort and yoongi leans in over the table, looking at something – _someone_ over their shoulders.

“there he is,” he half-whispers, “and namjoon’s right behind him. they’ve been late to lunch every day this week.”

“okay?” hoseok really doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal to yoongi. if anyone should be freaking out, he’s pretty sure it should be _him_.

“i bet namjoon knows,” yoongi continues, “but he won’t tell me anything, that prick.”

“ah,” finally, the puzzle pieces start to connect, “namjoon hasn’t booty called you yet, has he?”

“honestly! you’d think that after-” he pauses, looking at taehyung staring at him innocently with his mouth half-open in curiosity, “after we worked so hard on our project for school, he’d have the decency to at least text me!”

“yeah, i bet it was downright _exhausting_ ,” hoseok snorts.

“it’s not funny, hoseok,” yoongi actually dares to sound hurt, immediately making hoseok feel bad for his comment. he’s halfway to forming a sincere apology when he notices the small glint in the corner of yoongi’s iris as he steals taehyung’s hot dog while the boy’s distracted, “i worked really hard for that project too and namjoon kept being anal about it-”

“well, would you look at that,” hoseok interrupts him before yoongi scars both him and taehyung’s untouched innocence, standing up with fingers wrapped firmly around his tray just as the bell rings, “we’ll be late for class!”

“i have a free period!” taehyung pipes in usefully while hoseok ushers him out of the cafeteria, a cackling yoongi following at their heels.

 

during math, hoseok gets hit by a rectangular slip of paper in his ear. it’s almost relieving, since it comes from donghyuk’s direction on his right; maybe yoongi’s been worrying for nothing, and things will slowly go back to normal, whatever adventures he and donghyuk had shared now forgotten. but when he looks down and examines the paper more closely, he realizes it’s a note.

_boy’s bathroom after class_

there’s no signature or anything to in any way confirm it _is_ indeed donghyuk’s note, but hoseok realizes, with a hollow feelings in his chest, that he can recognize his handwriting by now. when he turns around to look at him, donghyuk’s staring at the teacher in the front, not really paying attention and fidgeting with his pencil a little too much for it to be casual. hoseok almost indulges the benefit of the doubt that it’s all in his head but there’s a nagging voice at the back of his head telling him that this day will not end good at all.

class ends all too quickly for his liking. even the boring subjects such as chemistry overwhelm him with so much work that when the last bell rings, hoseok nearly jumps out of his skin at the surprise.

“already done,” he muses to himself, yoongi giving him a curious look.

“yeah, do you wanna meet up after school?”

 _yes_ , is what hoseok desperately wants to say. “no, i’m busy today,” is what leaves his mouth. yoongi appears disappointed but he’s never been the type to pry into hoseok’s business too much, so with a shrug of his shoulders he picks up his bag and struts towards the door, waving at hoseok in the process.

hoseok waves back but it’s half-hearted. his stomach has dropped to his heels and it’s getting more difficult to even talk himself into getting up from his chair as time goes by. he stays unmoving, acting like he’s organizing his books, until it’s only him and their old chemistry teacher coughing in the background to subtly tell him to _hurry the fuck up_ , while also making hoseok blush furiously at the growing awkwardness.

the boy’s bathroom is located at the end of the hallway and it’s fairly close to the exit. he’s already planned out an escape route if donghyuk suddenly decides he’s over whatever’s been bothering him and goes back to his old ways. the more he thinks about it, the more hoseok’s sure it’s how their little encounter will go.

but hoseok should’ve learned to expect the unexpected by now.

when he (carefully, slowly) opens the bathroom door, he sees donghyuk  crying.

it’s not full-on crying, mostly sniffling and dabbing a used tissue on the wet skin of his cheekbones, but donghyuk’s definitely been there for a while. thinking back on it, hoseok’s tried so hard to pretend donghyuk doesn’t exist in the classroom that he hasn’t noticed him leaving before the bell rang. this is the second time he’s seeing donghyuk cry and just like the last one, it grooms an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

 _you don’t feel sorry for him_ , he repeats to himself, _shin donghyuk is a bad, bad person._ it’s surreal to see their roles reversed now, in a way. donghyuk’s seen hoseok cry too many times to count. he’s been the reason of those tears all of those times.

he stays quiet until the door clicks itself shut behind him and startles donghyuk from his thoughts. he’s mostly gathered himself now, apart from the redness in his eyes, but when he clears his throat to speak it’s almost like nothing’s happened at all, “you’re here.”

“yes,” hoseok says. he feels kind of dumb for confirming the obvious when he probably wasn’t even required to but he just wants to say… something, anything, to break the silence.

“sorry about that,” donghyuk continues, throwing the used tissue into the full trashcan. it bounces from the other damp paper in it and lands ungracefully on the floor and hoseok would much rather watch it twitch than stare at donghyuk’s sneakers when he approaches him and becomes impossible to ignore, “just pretend you didn’t see anything.”

“you got it,” hoseok drawls, “is, uh, t-there a point of me being here?”

the stutter escapes him when he looks up and – continues looking up until he’s staring at donghyuk towering over him and he’s already forgotten about their size difference. hoseok’s not that shorter but years of little to none physical activity and weekends spent locked up in his room refusing to socialize have left him on the lankier side. donghyuk, as a jock, is massive and hoseok hates being reminded of that.

“i guess,” donghyuk answers. it’s weird – he looks vulnerable again. it’s an adjective hoseok would never associate with someone like him. he looks almost scared.

yep. roles definitely reversed.

“there’s just- i’ve had something on my mind,” he babbles on, mostly to keep himself from freezing up, hoseok guesses, “or well, someone, actually.”

“that’s… that’s great? i think?”

“it’s you,” donghyuk interjects. hoseok’s mouth falls open in shock, “no wait. it’s not- that’s not how i was supposed to say it. shit.”

he lets out a long exhale and buries his free palm into his hair, looking genuinely distressed. hoseok supposes he should do something – excuse himself, run away most likely – but he stays rooted to the spot, at a loss of words.

“i think i remember,” finally, donghyuk gathers his thoughts, “last weekend, when i passed out on you. i think i remember the things i said. i- i know you know about my old man.”

“i won’t tell,” hoseok says automatically. that night will stay ingrained in his memory for a long time to come, he’s sure of it. he’s promised hunchul he won’t tell anyone about siyoung. he finds it his moral obligation to do the same for donghyuk, “it’s your own personal matter, i won’t-”

“it’s not that,” donghyuk interrupts him, “i don’t care if the whole world knows what a sick bastard he is anymore,” without realizing it, he takes a step forward, walking hoseok into the cold tiles of the wall next to him, “there’s also the other thing…”

ah, right. a light bulb goes off above hoseok’s head when he realizes what this all is about. _the other thing_.

despite himself, hoseok feels anger bubbling up in his chest.

“look, i already have a brother who refuses to acknowledge he likes dick, i don’t-”

“i think i like you,” donghyuk mutters, making hoseok pause in the middle of his sentence. his eyes widen a second later when the meaning of his words dawns on him, “fuck. that wasn’t supposed to come out like that either.”

“what?” is all hoseok manages to push past his lips. he’s pretty sure donghyuk’s shocked expression mirrors his own, but whereas donghyuk looks freaked out, hoseok just feels… numb.

“is that what it is?” donghyuk asks, not really listening to him, “i can’t stop thinking about you. i haven’t been able to for years, now, and- fuck, it made me so angry all the time. you annoyed me so much and i thought- if i make you hurt then it will go away,” he stops to take a breath, looking up from his feet to meet hoseok’s hardening gaze, “it didn’t. it never went away.”

there’s a moment of silence that engulfs them, a moment in which hoseok’s supposed to say something, or acknowledge he’s even paying attention. donghyuk worries his lower lip with his teeth but hoseok doesn’t _want_ to give him the satisfaction of relief. he keeps quiet, waits for donghyuk to continue his – confession? -, a sadistic part of him actually enjoying the way he just won’t stop anxiously twitching.

“hoseok,” donghyuk says and it sounds so pained. _don’t feel sorry for him_ , hoseok reminds himself, pleasantly surprised that he really _doesn’t_ , “please say something.”

“like what?” he finally speaks up. his hands ball into tight fists, his fingernails digging into the cushions of flesh on the inside of his palm, “you think that just because i thought you were cute when we were fourteen, i’d be jumping around in joy now like your stereotypical flamboyant gay boy? after everything you’ve _done_ to me?”

without meaning to, his head fills with flashbacks – the times donghyuk’s made him cry himself to sleep, the times he’s humiliated him in front of the entire school, all the bruises and cuts his mom had to patch up for him – and his limbs turn cold, shaking. whatever illusion he’s had up until now about things being fine, that he’ll be able to move on forward in spite of what’s happened in the past, shatters like fragile glass and all he’s left with is the fury long overdue.

donghyuk opens his mouth, to defend himself maybe, or say something that’ll make hoseok feel even worse, and the shorter boy recognizes the fire behind his eyes as a mutual feeling of anger. donghyuk’s getting pissed off too, but he doesn’t care, “you tormented me for years. _years_. whatever sort of complex you’ve been getting over – it has nothing to do with me. it gives  you _no_ right,” he takes a step back when donghyuk steps closer again, pointing an accusing finger at him, “you don’t get to say a drunken sorry that you barely even _remember_ and expect me to be fine with it. you just don’t.”

“hoseok-”

turning around and leaving is easy. he doesn’t stay to see donghyuk’s reaction, or listens when he calls for him. his limbs protest in weakness as he walks towards the exit, but he’d rather nurse an injury than stay in donghyuk’s company longer than necessary in this moment.

the sky lights up with faraway lightning when his feet touch the pavement. he pulls up his hood, rain following him home.

 

fridays aren’t difficult days, not usually. hoseok finishes all his homework when he gets home on thursday night and spends the first part of the next morning lazing around and barely paying attention to what the teachers are saying.

“it’s so… uncharacteristic of you,” yoongi remarks with a smirk. he’s leaning backwards on his chair, balancing a pen on the knuckles of his middle finger as their history teacher drones on about some war, “but i like it. my influence is finally rubbing off on you.”

“i just don’t feel like it today,” hoseok sighs into his hand. and it’s the truth; yesterday has left him drained of any kind of energy to put in his studies. both of them know he’ll make up for it later, though.

it takes him a while to realize that donghyuk’s not in today. recently, it’s become less of an unusual occurrence. he tries not to think much of it; he’s still upset. donghyuk’s not worth his time. what’s much more peculiar is that namjoon’s nowhere to be seen either.

it’s still raining – it hasn’t stopped for hours now, with occasional thundering. his mother had told him to be careful before she went to work at six a.m. and while hoseok didn’t really register it back then, the stronger the storm becomes, the more worried he gets.

“will you be able to walk home?” yoongi asks. it’s a pointless question since yoongi’s on foot himself, and will definitely insist on walking hoseok to his apartment and prolonging the time he needs to get to his own house. hoseok nods, although yoongi doesn’t look entirely convinced. he’d rather risk catching a cold than yoongi doing the same.

“i’ll be fine, don’t worry,” hoseok assures him, pulling out his umbrella. it’s a little crooked, but it’s served him just fine over the past years. it hasn’t quite met a storm this strong before, though.

“alright,” yoongi nods, reluctant to go. hoseok waves him goodbye, after promising once again he’ll text him the second he arrives home. he even pulls out his phone as if to prove a point, when he realizes the screen is lit up with a call, and the device is vibrating.

he waves at yoongi until the older disappears behind a corner and stumbles a little with stabilizing the phone in his other hand, his heart skipping a beat when he sees the person that’s calling him is none other than jung hunchul.

“hoseok!” he sounds breathless and anxious. hoseok has absolutely no idea why hunchul would call him now unless it’s another invitation to a party he most certainly won’t attend. he’s halfway to saying it out loud as well, when hunchul’s next words register in his brain and he stops breathing altogether.

“dad had- he had an accident, we’re in the hospital right now. please, you have to come.”

 

the ride to the hospital is long and torturous. hoseok’s body refuses to stop twitching the entire time and his mom won’t pick up – granted it’s because her work doesn’t allow using phones unless she’s on break. between panic rising up his chest and hunchul’s voice echoing the number of the room his father is being held in, he finds place to be mad at himself for forgetting to save her emergency phone number.

the taxi drives through lakes of water at full speed, splashing innocent bystanders. hoseok feels guilty watching them curse the driver as they wipe the dirty water off their bodies since he’s the one who insisted they hurry in this weather. he’s not even sure why he’s so scared in the first place. it’s not like his father’s been treating him particularly well. it’s not like they’ve even _communicated_ since the wedding.

he’s not sure if his father even wants him to be there. after all, he’s the bastard son, and the press will surely swarm around the hospital the second they hear the news. hoseok’s existence is a taboo for them – everyone knows, but no one writes about it.

thinking further on it, maybe calling his mom isn’t such a great idea after all.

“we’re here,” the driver informs him ten minutes later. the hospital building is large and white, standing out in the otherwise dirty grey buildings surrounding it. usually it looks relatively friendly. now, when hoseok doesn’t know what awaits for him on the other side of the entrance door, it’s more frightening than anything else.

hoseok pushes a few thousand won in the man’s hands without waiting for change. his umbrella lasts long enough for him to climb up the stairs when he passes the stone fence and hide in the safety of the reception-slash-emergency room.

he stutters out his father’s room number just like hunchul’s told him to the tired receptionist at the front. she types something in the computer, looking like she’s about to fall asleep any second and in any other circumstance hoseok would understand her, but now it’s taking him all his self-control not to scream at her.

“are you his family?”

“s-son, yes.”

“alright, go into the hallway and turn left to the waiting room. he’s been checked in unconscious three hours ago.”

 _unconscious_. the word repeats itself in hoseok’s head during his run to room one hundred and fifty-seven, at the far end of the hallway. indeed, when he turns left, he sees hunchul and hyojung and- siyoung is there too, sitting next to hunchul’s hunched over frame and gently touching his shoulders in what seems to be a comforting gesture.

“hoseokkie!” it’s hyojung who greets him first, high heels scraping over the tiles as she rushes to his side. she grabs his arm in a vice-like grip and pulls him into a tight hug, squeezing out the little air he has left in his lungs, “it’s awful! the doctors are with him now and- he’s not waking up!”

her voice breaks as she finishes the sentence and moves away from hoseok to grab a tissue from her purse and dab her eyes from unshed tears to prevent them from spilling. hunchul gets up at that time, looking like he hasn’t slept properly in days, and siyoung follows suit.

“his car got into an accident on the highway,” he explains quietly. hoseok notices that he’s slightly shaking, but it calms once siyoung’s touch is back on him, however light, “he- the doctor’s said it’s a concussion but he hasn’t woken up since.”

“was he drunk?” hoseok asks. hyojung gasps behind hunchul, as if the very thought of it is preposterous.

“no,” hunchul says immediately, “hyojung told me he was coming back from a conference in busan when the other car hit him.”

“i’m sure he’ll be fine,” it’s the first time hoseok’s heard siyoung speak. his voice is a lot deeper than he’s expected, a nice, soothing baritone, so quiet that hoseok’s sure it’s meant for hunchul’s ears only, “these are the best doctors in the area. they know what they’re doing.”

“they better,” hyojung sniffles into her tissue, “we’re not paying them for nothing.”

“this is siyoung, by the way,” hunchul finally introduces them, pointing at the smiling man who lifts his bony hand into a friendly wave, “my bo- friend, i’ve been telling you about.”

“right,” hoseok nods. he pretends like he hasn’t heard hunchul’s slip up but it’s not like he can comment much on it even if he wants to – hyojung’s back to hanging onto him and sobbing into his shoulder. somehow he ends up with his arms around his stepmother, enveloping her into a hug as she cries her soul out.

he takes back everything he’s said about fridays. this is going to be a long night.

 

around eleven in the evening hyojung gets sent home by the paramedics claiming she’s being too hysterical to remain in the hospital area. she doesn’t take the news very well but siyoung’s kind enough to offer her a ride home, saying it’s late and he should be going as well.

hunchul is really, really bad at hiding his disappointment. hoseok turns away when hunchul’s fingers wrap around siyoung’s thin forearm and he leans in to whisper something into his ear that makes the older smile goofily. hyojung doesn’t notice and the doctors are too busy with other patients to pay them any mind. it’s cute in a way, but hoseok is still mildly annoyed with his brother.

“he’s been stabilized but the pain meds we’ve given him will keep him asleep until morning, i’m afraid,” the head-chief-doctor tells them right before hyojung and siyoung leave. worry lifts off hoseok’s chest and he slumps into the chair next to his passed out father’s bed, right next to hunchul.

“he’s cute,” hoseok whispers. hunchul has his hands covering the lower part of his face and he lets out a surprised grunt when he hears hoseok speak, turning to him with wide eyes, “siyoung hyung. he’s cute.”

it’s one of the rare times he’s heard hunchul laugh without any malicious or sarcastic undertones. it’s not that bad, hanging out with his brother in silence with the vrooming of the machines in the background. maybe it would’ve been better if it was a different situation, preferably one where their mutual parent isn’t hurt.

hunchul falls asleep in the chair right before the clock strikes midnight. hoseok diligently replies to yoongi’s worried texts ranging from _ok its weird that namjoon wasn’t in school today, rite?_ to _holy shit dude are you ok???? idc abt ur dad tho_ until his fingers start hurting too much to type. his mom should’ve finished her shift by now so he sends her a text too and carefully gets up so he wouldn’t startle hunchul drooling on his sleeve.

the hospital is surprisingly quiet. apart from a few rushed doctors pushing their way past him to their patients or the lab and a few stray elderly who’ve gotten lost on their way back to their room, the halls are pretty much empty. hoseok’s hungry though, having barely eaten today, and he’s spotted a vending machine down the path he’s ran through earlier today.

to his complete shock it’s namjoon who greets him there, a plastic cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

he looks horrible, hair sticking up in different places and thick framed glasses on the tip of his nose. he’s slightly nervous, tapping his foot on the tiles repeatedly even as hoseok approaches him fully and says a semi-whispered, “hi.”

“hey,” namjoon answers, “fancy seeing you here, yoongi’s gay friend.”

“we’ve talked before, you know,” hoseok murmurs, “and i have a name.”

“right, sorry,” namjoon immediately apologizes, slightly flustered, “let me rephrase that: fancy seeing you here, hoseok-ah.”

“you too, namjoon,” he’s about to push some coins into the vending machine to buy himself strawberry milk when he pauses, “what’s wrong? are you hurt?” he doesn’t look the part, although hoseok’s sure this boy hasn’t seen sleep for a solid twenty-four hours.

“ah, it’s not really me… who’s hurt,” namjoon’s reluctant in answering, glancing at the door across from them. they’re not entirely closed, just a strip of pale light seeping through, so hoseok can sense the movement going on behind them.

“someone from your family? namjoon, i’m so sorry,” hoseok hurries to say but to his horror, namjoon just snorts bitterly.

“you could say that,” he says after a moment of watching the shadow play on the floor, “i’m the only family he’s got now.”

whatever hoseok’s wanted to say escapes him completely when the doors swing open, letting out a nurse with a handful of bloodied bandages. she smiles at namjoon like she knows him from before and reassuringly touches his forearm, nodding, “he’ll be okay.”

when she leaves, hoseok finally sees him. he looks so relaxed in his hospital robes, playing with his bruised fingers under the thin blanket and staring at some girl crying in a drama on tv. it’s so easy to ignore the swelling under his eyes and the white cloth wrapped around his arms, a transparent tube connecting him to the iv.

without really intending to, hoseok steps forward to the door. namjoon sighs behind him, saying something about texting yoongi, and leaves quietly. hoseok doesn’t hear him. his feet lead him to stand beside donghyuk’s bed with donghyuk himself looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and lips parted open in surprise.

“what are you doing here?” is the first thing that leaves his mouth and it’s what it takes for hoseok to shake out of his stupor. even his voice sounds broken and rough, mostly exhausted.

“my dad got into an accident,” hoseok replies automatically, “and so did you, as it seems.”

“i guess you could call it that. dad came home real drunk and i was pissed off,” he says with a laugh, coughing immediately after the pain that simple action has caused in his ribs, “so i provoked him.”

“pissed off?” hoseok echoes. he still feels numb when he sits down on the empty stool chair next to the bed so that donghyuk doesn’t have to strain his already hurting neck, “wait, how long have you been here?” he notices the discarded clothing in the far end of the room, presumably namjoon’s, and the slight yellowish undertones in donghyuk’s uncovered bruises on his cheek.

“thursday night,” donghyuk answers immediately and the story clicks in hoseok’s head.

“you’re an idiot,” he proclaims, “you got into a fight with your dad because of what i said?” donghyuk even looks sheepish, “you’re an idiot.”

“it’s not just that,” donghyuk says, “you were right. all the things you said. i wasn’t- i didn’t think things through.”

“you never do,” hoseok remarks. he hates how bitter he sounds when donghyuk looks so defeated, like somehow this situation is making him out to be the bad guy. he sighs, glancing down at his hands for the lack of anything better to do, and murmurs, “i-i’m sorry for saying all that stuff. i mean, i'm not sorry for _what_ i said, but the way i said it. i was too harsh.”

“it's not like i haven't deserved it,” donghyuk snorts, “i guess this is all karma finally catching up to me.”

“you don’t deserve getting put in the hospital by your _dad_ ,” hoseok’s barely aware of how loud he’s gotten by the end of that sentence, his own voice resonating in his eardrums, “sorry,” he mutters, quieter.

“it’s alright,” donghyuk says with a hint of a smile, “it’s the last time he’s done it, anyway. namjoonie reported him.”

silence falls over them as hoseok doesn’t know what to say after that. the lights flicker on and off above them, buzzing occasionally. hoseok opts for staring at the tall buildings reflecting in the window on donghyuk’s left, until donghyuk speaks up again, “i don’t want to be a dick to you anymore.”

it’s spoken so quietly that hoseok’s sure he must’ve misheard. it could’ve easily been the tv in the background but when he reverts his eyes back to donghyuk, the expression he’s wearing is the closest he’ll ever get to begging.

“i don’t know about that,” hoseok tries to smile, although it’s painfully fake, “i think it’s ingrained in your blood or something.”

“i’m serious,” donghyuk’s serious tone wipes away whatever light mood hoseok’s been trying to set up. his gaze is stern and determined and hoseok feels his skin heat up at it, “i’ve thought about nothing but this for weeks now. like, i don’t know if i’m- well i know for sure i like girls but i also like you and it’s-”

“donghyuk,” hoseok interrupts him, surprising even himself when he reaches out to pet his hand lightly, “it’s fine. maybe… maybe we could try being friends, if you want. you know, me helping you out with your homework and in return you stop calling me names and giving me bruises.”

donghyuk doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, studying hoseok’s face as if he’ll find the answer to his troubles there, “alright,” he nods, “that… that sounds nice, yeah.”

“and i get to hit you,” hoseok adds quickly, “as much as i want. until i decide your road to redemption is completed.”

donghyuk nods in all seriousness and this time hoseok actually does laugh, leaning more towards the genuine side. he extends his arm for a handshake to seal the deal, pretending like hoseok’s hold on him is too tight, “be careful, you brute! i’m still hurt.”

hoseok briefly considers hitting him for real, but the atmosphere is much lighter than before and not even namjoon crashing into the door upon his return and cursing under his breath manages to break it.

 

(at some point, namjoon falls asleep sprawled over the chairs under the tv set on the wall, lightly snoring. donghyuk, about to pass out himself, tugs on hoseok’s collar to pull him in, lifting a weak finger to point at his best friend.

“by the way,” he slurs, “i think namjoonie and yoongi hyung are fucking.”

he’s practically gone the next minute, relaxing back against the fluffy pillow. hoseok shakes his head in disbelief and slides back into his seat to make himself more comfortable since he plans on meeting dawn in this position, not tired at all.

“took you long enough to figure that out,” he murmurs into his jacket, focusing on the clearing sky above them and hope for a brighter future bubbling in his chest.)


End file.
